


Whiplash

by vanceypants



Series: The Road to Hell [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Basically it's just these four losers learning how to cope and love and forgive, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Falling In Love, Found Family, Friendship, Healing, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, PLEASE READ THE WARNING IN THE FIRST CHAPTER NOTE, Post-Canon, Rich Goranski has a disgusting family, Road Trips, Stuttering Jeremy Heere, Trans Jeremy Heere, Trans Rich Goranski, Trauma, formerly computer and newly human squips, obsolescence and the degradation of technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 60,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: In the beginning, there had been Rich Goranski.  He was his Book of Genesis, his Garden of Eden, his greatest creation.  And in the end, he broke him.When Rich's Squip reactivates as a flesh and blood human being, it's more than Rich can handle, so he runs.  Fearing for his safety and longing to properly atone, Rich's Squip unites with Jeremy and his own newly humanized Squip on a quest to find Rich, bring him home, and learn how to navigate the messy business of being alive.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Jeremy Heere's Squip, Rich Goranski & Jeremy Heere, Rich Goranski & Jeremy Heere's Squip, Rich Goranski's Squip & Jeremy Heere's Squip, Rich Goranski/Rich Goranski's Squip
Series: The Road to Hell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726159
Comments: 47
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sedusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/gifts).



> I wouldn't have been able to write this damn thing if it weren't for Sedusa. Whether that's a blessing or a curse, we shall see.
> 
> This is a culmination of a lot of different headcanons and thoughts, and was written in a mad flurry in the final week of Camp Nanowrimo. No prior fics are necessary to read in order to understand this (for those who are aware of my characterization of Rich's Squip, this follows a slightly different path than any other depictions, in regards to the messiness of the final few months of his bond with Rich). For those who aren't aware of how I depict Rich's Squip, his name throughout this work is Moses.
> 
> There are quite a number of potential triggers within this work. I'm doing my best to list them all here. If any of these themes cause you any harm, I highly recommend you not read any further. My intention is not to hurt anyone and I'd greatly prefer someone look out for their own self-care and mental health than cause themselves unnecessary distress.
> 
> With that said, **WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC INCLUDE BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO** :  
> Rape, Human Trafficking, Repressed Memories of Sexual Assault, Detransitioning, Misgendering, Intense Sequences of Violence and Torture, and Racial Slurs/Depictions of Racism. More warnings may apply throughout the work.
> 
> The work is already completed and will likely be posted on a daily basis. A sequel is already in the works, though I have no promises on how quickly that will be finished.

“You think this means we’re fucking doomed?”

Sometimes Rich would hear himself talk and immediately regret the phraseology, wishing he could devour his own voice and regurgitate it into a more appropriate verbiage. If he could just choose his words correctly, could just find the right cadence, could just figure out how to control his lisp and articulate, maybe then he’d have been able to make friends without Moses.

Thinking about Moses made him feel sick, sick beyond the bubbling nausea of three servings of hospital gelatin.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed, hovering nearby, and looking at him in surprise. “The squip thing?”

Rich smiled faintly. What a way to downplay it. The squip thing. Maybe it required capitalization, maybe that would make it sound more serious, more gravity to the thing, the great big awful something, that had misshapen their lives. The Squip Thing.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think we’re doomed,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we’re, um, we’re r-really lucky, actually.” His stutter seemed to come and go like the tide. Rich supposed he could listen to it all day. It was more poetic than his own lisp, certainly.

And his insistence on luck was more poetic than the doom of Rich’s own speculations.

“I don’t feel very lucky.” He hated the softness to his own voice there. So he forced a laugh, a bark of amusement, head falling back. “I mean, shit, I walked through fire and lived to tell the tale though, right? That’s gotta count for something.”

Jeremy looked at him, concern etched onto his features.

They’d spent many days like this together, Jeremy and Rich, sharing their hospital bed, and swapping stories. Rich wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. One moment, he’d been crackling, burning. The next his eyes were opening, and there was Jeremy, sleeping beside him.

It wasn’t as though he had anyone he could really question about it.

That was self-pitying. Of course he had people to ask. He had an entire team of doctors and nurses at his disposal, heroes who had kept him alive for the life he’d never asked to keep.

That was self-pitying too. Why was he such a sad sack lately? Just because he failed at dying? Every living person on the planet had failed at dying. He was in good company. Everyone failing until they succeeded. And then it’d be nothing but the great big nothing, the empty bleakness that was the big final sleep. The-

Complete and total self-pitying desperation of his own brain.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me, dude.”

They’d had fun though, hadn’t they? He wanted to think they’d had fun. He and Queere, locked up for a week in a hospital room together. Jeremy had gone through a series of tests and examinations, while Rich had just laid there, between skin grafts and quiet infection scares. He wasn’t sure how they’d been roomed together, except perhaps some divine intervention insisting that the two who’d most experienced The Squip Thing were meant to be together.

Rich picked at the bracelet around his wrist, accidentally agitating his bandages in the process. He hissed quietly, stilling his hand, only to feel the restless energy twitch and churn within his bones themselves.

“W-what? No, I…” Jeremy trailed off, before offering a little smile. His body scooted back, until he was laying next to Rich completely on the bed. Jeremy was already out of his hospital gown, clad in his normal striped shirt and cardigan (Rich wondered if his entire closet was variations on this theme, or if Rich was too stupid to notice the diversity in his wardrobe. It was such a standard Jeremy look, though, that he couldn’t help but think it was just the norm. It was nice, to have something normal in this situation). “I, um, I really...rooming with you was the only good thing about any of this.”

“Gay.”

“I’m serious.”

Rich smiled, which ached against the bandaging on his face. It hardly compared to the heavy patch of bandages over his left eye.

He’d never see out of it again. That was what the doctors had said. They hadn’t taken them off yet, so he wasn’t sure what he’d experience once he saw himself fully. So far, reflections had revealed little but excesses of white bandages, or the occasional stain of whatever of his insides had been absorbed by said bandages.

“You’re, um, you’re k-kind of a blast, Rich.”

“Yup, that’s me. Blasting off again. Just call me Team motherfuckin’ Rocket.” He dodged around the compliments, a complex dance he’d perfected in his youth. He certainly wasn’t worthy of any sort of praise now, not after what he’d done.

Did anything even remain of Jake’s house?

And, for that matter, did anything even remain of Jake? He knew he hadn’t killed him. Just as he knew, from Michael’s visits, that Jake had moved. Both his legs in casts, probably permanently traumatized, likely in a different school district. “He still stops by sometimes,” Michael had said, before he’d seen the look on Rich’s face and changed the subject.

It wasn’t that Rich wanted Jake to see him like this. And it wasn’t that he expected forgiveness.

Maybe he wanted to be yelled at more. Maybe he needed to be punished further. He’d ruined Jake’s home, his memories, his life. He’d harmed his body. 

He’d put so many of his classmates at risk.

And for what? A delusional belief that he needed to stop the Squips? To stop Moses?

His brain itched with white noise at the memory of the name. No. He tried to shut it off, but it consumed him. Jeremy’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear him. And his hands were too bandaged to cover his ears properly. Not that blocking out the outside would stop the horrors from within.

But oh, how he could dream. How he could fantasize about having the capabilities of fixing any of the pieces he’d broken.

Maybe he hadn’t wanted to stop the squips anyway. Maybe his true intention had been simpler. Maybe he’d just wanted to die. Maybe he’d deserved to die. Maybe it was selfish to wake up from his coma and go through skin graft after skin graft, to make life more and more difficult for the doctors he wouldn’t be able to afford once he was discharged, because like hell his father would be making payments, like hell his father had gotten him insured. Maybe-

It was self-pitying. He needed to stop self-pitying.

It felt so strange to have his brain to himself. And he wasn’t sure he liked it.

But he’d done this to himself.

“...Rich?”

“Yeah?” Rich should have lied. But tears bubbled to his exposed eye--he couldn’t tell if it followed with the one bandaged, and he tried not to think about it too much. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you. I’m kinda-”

“F-Freaking out?”

“A little,” Rich admitted with a shaky laugh. “A lot.”

“Yeah. Me, um, too.”

“This empty brain shit is a real trip, huh?”

“It m-must be harder for you, though. You had yours longer.”

This was the most they’d talked about the Squips. Rich wasn’t sure if he wanted to press on or bury it all. But he made no active effort to do either. 

Jeremy would be leaving as soon as they returned with the wheelchair. Mr. Heere had already pulled the car to the front to pick him up. They had so little time, and Rich didn’t want to let him leave yet. Jeremy had become his main contact with...well, with contact. 

A kindred spirit that he’d battered and pushed away for two years. The shame nauseated him. 

“This isn’t the Oppression Olympics, bro. You had it hard. End of statement. We both are going through some shit. Besides, yours was like…” He trailed off. “What was yours like?”

“My Squip?”

“Yeah.”

“I…” Jeremy trailed off, his forehead creasing. “I d-don’t...I mean, it’s like, he was in my head that whole time--I guess he. They? It?--and he knew everything about me. But I didn’t know much about him.”

“To be fair, he didn’t really exist in any tangible way before you, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s tr-true.”

“I know what you mean though. I think. I mean, for me anyway, I had that fucker in my head for, what...three years?” He tried to pretend like he didn’t remember the exact date, as though he could disguise how attached he’d always been, that he always would be. As if he didn’t still think about how things might be different if he hadn’t set himself on fire. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe he would have gone back to how things had been before. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. 

“It felt kinda selfish, you know? His every action, every experience, his whole life was through me. And I killed him.”

This time, the tears didn’t stay rimming his eyes. Rich squeezed his eye shut, trembling horribly. The shame, thick and warm, pulsed around him. 

Jeremy couldn’t even hug him because of the extent of the burns, the bandages. Where did Rich’s flesh begin and burn end? Where did the bandages give way to his humanity? What did he even have left of himself, when all was said and done? For three years, he’d been somebody else, and before that he’d been no one at all, and he didn’t know what the real Richard Goranski was, or if there even was one, and-

Jeremy’s fingers threaded through his hair, the only safe choice in the matter of touching him. “You w-weren’t in a good place.”

“I’m never in a good place.” He hiccupped, then laughed. “God I’m so self-pitying.”

There it was again.

“I feel bad for killing mine too,” Jeremy admitted softly. Then he glanced at the door, as if frightened someone would overhear. “I kn-know he was bad-”

“That’s the thing, mine wasn’t even bad! Not for most of it. Just like...I mean, I used to not be bad too, right? I think I used to be good. I used to be...I don’t know. But I turned bad, I was bad for the last few years. Percentage wise, that’s not much, but it’s what counts, right? I deserved it too. I deserved to-”

The nurse entered the room, pushing a chair. “Ready to go, Jeremy?”

“Oh, u-uh, can I just have a minute?”

She remained standing in the doorway, smiling her plastic smile. Rich sniffled.

“I’m fine,” He insisted. He didn’t think he was, but he also didn’t think he had any say in holding Jeremy back. “I didn’t mean to cut you off though, dude.”

“Y-you, um, I mean, you’re fine.”

“I’m not.” Wait. “I mean, I am, but that was totally uncool of me.”

Jeremy looked at him anxiously. “I can stay, i-if you-”

“Your father is waiting, we really should-” The nurse began to coo.

“J-just a second!” It was the sharpest that Jeremy had ever sounded. 

Rich reached out one of his bandaged hands, trembling, as he managed to pat Jeremy’s knee. “I’m fine,” He said softly. Then, grinning a crooked little grin, “Besides, you’ve got a Christine to impress, don’t you?”

They’d discussed her, of course. Girls in general, Christine in particular. It had made Rich ache a little in confused guilt. After all, Jake had dated Christine. But that had ended, or at least Jeremy had said it had ended. The events were so hard to piece together.

Everything was so hard to piece together. His mind felt like a slurry of confused syllables and forgotten words, lost memories. He wasn’t sure if this was any way to live, but he’d have to grow used to it, he supposed.

“Y-yeah. No idea what to say to her, though.”

“Just tell her that she excites you sexually.” Rich wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, which worked at getting Jeremy to laugh.

Jeremy had a nice laugh. And a nice smile. And a nice body.

And Rich could almost will himself to fall in love, if it weren’t for the shattered everything within the cracked remains of whatever sort of body this was meant to be.

“I d-don’t think I’ll do that. Um. Maybe I’ll just, uh, rely on my own intuition for once.”

“Man, good fucking luck.” As soon as the words left, Rich realized how doubting that sounded towards Jeremy’s abilities. The exact opposite of what he’d meant. “No, I mean, like, genuinely. Good luck. No fucking. Well...hopefully a little fucking, am I right?”

It earned another laugh. “Are you sure you’re, um, y-you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Rich glanced towards the nurse, then back at Jeremy. “Go. Your life is waiting, right?”

It sounded so final, like the ending credits of some cheesy coming of age story. 

“That s-sounded so cheesy.”

But Jeremy did get out of the bed. He moved towards the nurse, glancing back at Rich for one last glance. 

“You s-sure-”

“I’m sure!” He laughed. “We already had some fitting final words. Don’t taint them now.”

“R-right.” Jeremy sank down into the chair. Rich could hear his brief complaints about having to travel out like this, before the silence swallowed him again.

The pain chased directly after it. It was a python, sinking its poisoned fangs into him and traveling through his bloodstream until it consumed him completely. Or perhaps it was a constrictor, tightening and tightening until he was certain his bones would shatter.

He’d already gotten his dose of morphine for the next few hours. His fingers twitched uncomfortable in the bandages, and he felt himself hyper-aware of every single inch of his own body.

A body he’d never asked for in the first place.

Well.

That wasn’t quite true. 

Moses had taken the raw materials of a body he’d never asked for, and gifted him, at least for some time, something that had the base beginnings of happiness. A sense of self that Rich had desperately longed for.

Moses had done so much for him.

And so much to him.

And he’d whimpered during the fire, his avatar wavering, wide eyes staring at Rich in a confused sort of betrayal. This wasn’t how things were supposed to play out, that look said. They were supposed to stick it out together.

This wasn’t part of the agreement.

Maybe he’d hurt Rich, but he’d also built him up. And that confusion, that complete shattering of everything he’d become in those last moments, that would haunt Rich for the rest of his life.

So was it really such a surprise that he wanted to shorten that time as much as he could.

Or maybe that was the pain talking. He wanted to bite his lip to keep from crying out, but was frightened by the prospect of tasting his own charred skin. A stupid thought, as his lips hadn’t been burned. But why risk it?

The cowardice of his own inability to face the consequences of what he’d wrought weren’t lost on him.

He sat as still as he could, and tried to count his way into a state of calm. Maybe if he could concentrate on anything else, he’d be able to leave the pain behind.

If he closed his eyes, maybe he’d see something besides Moses’ terrified face.

He wouldn’t be so lucky today, just as he hadn’t been so lucky any of the other nights he’d tried it. But maybe if he kept practicing, he could learn how to bury everything all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

Rich flicked his thumb over the button of his remote, waiting for Jeopardy to return from commercial break, or for the weekly visit of the therapy dogs to show up. Whichever came first would be a welcome distraction from the fuzzy clatter of his own brain.

He loved the therapy dogs. He couldn’t do much besides look at them, though his movements and ability to grasp and touch were starting to return to him (albeit painfully, but then again, most things were). He’d had a dog once, when he was smaller, but the name was evading him now.

Many things evaded his mind. The doctors had mentioned that the combination of the smoke inhaled suffocation and the coma after might have caused some brain damage.

He tried not to think about that part. It should have been easy to ignore, given the potential brain damage, but somehow his mind was fully able to think about that part.

Regardless, the therapy dogs were nice. They had happy faces, and wagged their tails, and seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Rich was a murdering, treacherous villain, and finally had the face to match.

The bandaging had been removed from many areas on his face, including his eye, and the reflection had been both worse and better than he’d expected. Part of him had believed his eye would be a dangling, charred crisp. Instead, it was a murky film, horrifically pale, scarring along his eyebrow and his cheekbone working as a bullseye to fully accentuate it.

One of the dalmations they brought had blue eyes and a spot around its eye too, though, so maybe there were worse patterns to have.

All the same, closing his right eye, leaving the left open, and finding himself in a world of complete blackness was terrifying and fascinating. His depth perception, they’d informed him, would be more notably warped once he was up and moving.

But he was alive. That seemed to be what the doctors stressed the most. This could have been much worse. He could have lost vision in both eyes. He could have sustained deforming facial traumas warping the bones underneath, instead of superficial scarring.

Superficial.

Nothing felt superficial about any of the pain or damage he’d sustained. That he’d given to himself. Because he couldn’t forget that aspect. He had done this all himself.

But at least he had Double Jeopardy coming up. He liked the trivia games more than the chance ones. The winners really seemed to earn it, and there was no stress of the senselessness of a loss. Gambling was fun in small doses, but when so much money was on the line...no. Better to stick to trivia and earned glory, rather than spinning a wheel or guessing the right sequence of numbers.

And he had the dogs. Sometimes they brought puppies. It was almost torturous, how much he’d want to hold them, but couldn’t. He loved the feral cats which had made a home in and around his trailer, of course, but a puppy seemed like just the right medicine now.

Like hell his father would ever let him get a dog. Not that he’d visited or anything for him to even conceive of asking.

What a joke.

And so when the door opened, he fully expected to come face to face with one of the dogs. Maybe the nice lady with her German Shepherd. Maybe the beagle. Maybe-

Moses.

Maybe Moses.

Maybe fucking Moses.

The smoke had damaged Rich’s lungs, scarred them almost as surely as the skin covering his bones. Yet even with his new normal of breathlessness, he’d never felt quite so sucked free of breath as he did now.

The first thing anyone would notice about Moses--not that anyone would notice anything, given his only existence was within Rich’s mind--was his size. Moses was tall, the sort of tall that made navigating ceilings difficult. The sort of tall that made dumb failed comedians too afraid to comment ‘how’s the weather up there’. The sort of tall that made one think of monuments and mountains and beautiful marble statues.

After the height, one would likely notice the hair--in this case tied back into a neat ponytail. The length of it slipped over his shoulder, thick black strands going past his chest. When untied, it easily hit his mid back. Perfect, shiny, meticulous.

And then they’d probably notice his skin tone, dark, warm undertones. Or maybe his plush lips. Or the warm molasses brown of his eyes. Or his thick eyelashes. Or the subtlest of stubble against his face--or at least, they would have previously. He appeared clean shaven now.

And younger.

He looked younger.

Or maybe Rich had misremembered him. Regardless, despite remaining as tall, as lengthy in hair, as plush of lips, Rich was almost positive that Moses’ age had been decreased.

He didn’t look much older than Rich himself.

The absurdity of his appearance left Rich paralyzed between the dual choices of either laughing or crying pathetically. He trembled against the bed, looking at the open door frame, then at the figure standing within his room.

His normally crisp uniform, the white suit that he’d grown so accustomed to seeing him adorned in, had been replaced. 

“They only had the female uniform,” Moses said meekly.

The pink and white candy striper dress hung over his hunking body comically, ending just above his kneecaps. How they’d had a dress in his size--

What was he talking about? Moses was a computer simulation. He could manifest any sort of appearance he chose. He could dress as professionally as he chose. So why was he choosing this? To mock Rich for his hospitalization? To try to trick him into amusement and bliss?

Rich squeezed his eyes closed. And he commanded him. Shut down. Shut down. Shut down.

When he opened his eyes again, Moses still stood there, but with an increased frown on his face. The pink clashed prettily against him, the muscles of his arms standing out, the perfect tone of his pecs stretching at the chest.

“You’re not in my head at all, are you?” Rich breathed.

Moses shook his head.

The panic was swifter than Rich could have ever expected. He looked around frantically, as though for his call light, or perhaps something to throw, or perhaps something to throw over himself to hide.

Moses took another step forward. The floor creaked under his weight. He really was here, and solid, and real. He had a baby face now, but he was still real in a way he hadn’t quite been before. There was no trail of faint pixelization at his edges, there was no command sequence to shut him down.

There was just Moses. Moses and Rich.

The Squip Thing.

“Please don’t come any closer,” Rich’s voice cracked. His heart rattled about, a pinball within the broken machine of his body.

“Richard-”

“Please.”

Moses took a step back, giving a faint nod. “Yes. Of course. I...you look-”

“Please!” Rich didn’t know how to tell him he couldn’t hear the rest of that sentence. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t listen to Moses discuss what he looked like, the creature he’d become. Because if Moses said it, then it wouldn’t just be a dirty thought within Rich’s head.

Oh, he wanted to go back to school. He wanted to be bored in class again. He wanted to hide among the peers who’d never truly known him, who he’d never truly known. He wanted to go back, but he also didn’t look forward to fielding those comments either. What he looked like. What he’d done.

He deserved it. But that didn’t mean he wanted it.

Or maybe he did.

“I missed you.”

Rich almost said that he did too. But instead, he shook his head. “Please.”

“I know. I know I hurt you. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I...oh, I practiced this entire speech the whole way to your room, and I can’t remember-”

“Moses,” saying his name out loud felt like a confession, almost like a prayer, except that his voice cracked again, and his terror began to flood every aspect of himself. Terror about Moses hurting him, as he’d constantly hurt him in the last few weeks of their time together.

Terror at facing what he’d done, what he’d done to himself, what he’d done to Moses.

Terror at being seen. At seeing. At everything. Everything was terrifying, everything was crushing, and he couldn’t handle this. 

So he’d resort to pleading. “I n-need you to leave,” His voice stuttered as though channeling Jeremy. And oh, how glad he was that Jeremy wasn’t here now. He’d visited a few times, since leaving. Stopped by with snacks and kind words, sentiments that weren’t earned, but were surely appreciated.

He didn’t know if he’d communicated that appreciation. But he knew that Jeremy knew all the same.

He wasn’t sure how he knew that.

Just as he was certain Moses wasn’t actually here to hurt him. There was no way to be so sure, yet he was all the same.

So why was he so scared? What did that say of him? If Moses wasn’t here to hurt him physically, what had driven him here?

How did he-

“How?”

“The body?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I...it’s a long story.” Moses began to step closer again.

Rich shrank back. Now wasn’t the time for stories, long or short. Now wasn’t the time for questions. Now wasn’t the time to bond or accept anyone, for Mo to accept him, or he to accept Mo.

“I really need you to leave.”

“Rich-”

“Moses, please!” The anxious nausea built a pressure within his belly, climbing steadily up his throat. He took a few shallow breaths, trying to fight sickness and his own broken lungs at the same time. He couldn’t fight all of that and defend against Moses’ pretty face at the same time.

His pretty face, which had looked so so scared when the fire had roared.

“I can’t do this.” Rich shook his head. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t feel him approach, he couldn’t think about the fire. He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it.

He just wasn’t sure which one of them was ‘he’.

Except he was sure. He’d always been sure.

And it certainly wasn’t Moses.

“...Richard, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t want to hear you! I don’t want to see you! I don’t...I can’t...I...please leave.”

Moses took another step backwards. “I just want to talk.”

He sounded so helpless. Rich wanted to give in. He felt even sicker at that prospect. His eyes, shiny and frightened, fixed upon Moses. He was hyper aware of his burns, his bandages, his foggy, ruined eye.

Moses didn’t look away though. His expression remained soft, not exactly passive, but certainly gentle in a way that Rich had never been worthy of.

He shook his head, looking away from Moses. He tried to turn himself onto his side, only to cry out in pain.

He heard the ground shift again as Moses--solid, real, almost passing as human Moses--moved towards him.

“No no no NO NO!” Rich shrieked. “NO! LEAVE! PLEASE!”

He heard the ground settle again, only to creak as Moses stepped backward, once, twice. He waited for another call of his name. He waited for his touch. He waited for the sequence of sentences that would convince him to take him back, back into his mind, into his body, into his life.

Was that how it worked? He’d stay solid until Rich no longer resisted him, then he’d settle back into his head?

Was it just a very convincing hallucination?

Rich looked back in his direction. Moses’ back was turned to him. The comedic element of his little dress failed to even produce so much as a smile. Rich’s stomach ached, but the nausea and acid settled back down. 

The puppies would fail to cheer him up this time as the continued presence of Moses’ visit remained within his mind.

He thought of telling Jeremy. Because no one else came to see him. But the next two visits kept Rich silent. 

Secretly, a destructive part of himself almost wished that Moses would show up again. It made him want to die, but the suicidal portion of his mind was the realest aspect of his personality, an old friend.

Moses was an old friend too, or as old as three years of constant presence, of a shared brain, could be considered.

His best friend, even.

His lover-

That was where the static got worse and worse, when he acknowledged those aspects of their partnership. To think of the hallucinated kisses. The way his fake arms would wrap around him, and he’d feel safe. Warm.

Not warm like the fire. But like blankets on a snowy day.

He’d killed him. But Moses had apparently risen like a phoenix, in a candy striper dress, with a soft youthful face. 

Sometimes, Rich couldn’t fight the nausea at all, and he’d vomit, eyes screwed shut, Moses’ face forever imprinted in his mind. The Squips may have been defeated, flushed out, but apparently that wasn’t altogether true. His curiosity clashed with his longing which clashed with his terror and his pain and his confusion, so much confusion.

But he kept it away from Jeremy. And from the nurses. And the volunteers. And the dogs. And from the imagined conversations he’d have with family if he had any worth a damn.

And when he was discharged, he smiled pleasantly at Jeremy as he stood beside him.

“Um. Ch-Christine, uh, Christine is parked out front.”

“So you closed the deal then?” He was surprised, he had to admit, that Christine was the chosen driver. He’d expected either Mr. Heere or Michael. 

Then again, why would Michael want to be around him?

For that matter, why would Jeremy? Or Christine? Had Christine been in the house when he’d set the fire? Had Michael? He couldn’t remember. He could remember nothing but his own flesh searing from his body, and Moses’ anguished cries, the way his pixelating hands had tried to pat out the flames on Rich’s body, before he started to scream as his own form began to curl in on itself, fizzle and end.

No.

“Not really,” Jeremy’s words drifted in, interrupting the circus of agony that continued to dance through Rich’s mind. “We, uh...the d-date was a disaster. I don’t know why she, um...why she’d want to be a-around me, but I think we’re actually...w-we kinda work as friends, I think.”

“So no pussy then?”

“Rich,” Jeremy giggled though. It was a nice sound. It chased out the darkness, at least for a moment.

Christine’s car was small and purple and had a smiley face ball on the antenna, an antiquated detail that made Rich smile as he was pushed out in his wheelchair to the vehicle. Jeremy offered him shotgun, but he let himself into the backseat. His body screamed protests as he kept himself in a seated position. The burns were still tender, most of them still bandaged, with instructions on how to change the wrappings, on the signs to look out for in case of infection.

“Hi Rich,” Christine said brightly. She smiled that radiant smile that RIch could absolutely see how Jake and Jeremy could both fall for.

For a traitorous moment, he tried to will himself to feel it too. To love.

Maybe if he could move on, he could forget about Moses.

And there he was again, the name looping, the confusion about how he could be, how he could exist, even now, throbbing in time with the pain of his body.

It had to be a mirage. He’d almost managed to convince himself of just that, enough to almost forget just what Christine was driving him back to. The life he’d forgotten he hated so much. 

After all, last time he’d been home, he’d been with Moses. And even when Moses was hurting him, maybe it was better than being alone with his father, his brother, his miserable excuse for a life.

He gave his directions with a sense of shame, that only amplified as they pulled up in front of the trailer, its rotted paneling, the screen door hanging off the hinges.

“Thanks for the ride, Chris. And thanks, Queere, just, like, for everything.”

“S-see you in school on Monday?”

“As long as I don’t off myself first!” Rich laughed.

No one else did.

Tough crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

As it turned out, bandages weren’t particularly conducive to holding a pencil.

It wasn’t until he dropped it though that it really occurred to Rich that no one was looking at him. He’d expected stares, expected them so intently that the fact he wasn’t being ignored completely didn’t really fit into his mind until now, trying to fetch his pencil from the ground and missing--his depth perception throwing off every anxious swipe at the ground--that he saw how intently all eyes were trained forward

He decided to leave the pencil.

Because even the teacher seemed indifferent towards his actions.

And so it became the new normal. He found himself in a bubble, walking down the hallways, everyone parting and staying several feet away, a circle of solitude trailing him everywhere he stepped. He tried hugging his books to his chest, as though their pressure would make him feel better, make him feel as though he had some companionship.

It did little good.

Certainly Jeremy would greet him in the halls, and occasionally accompany him to class. “A-are you hurting?”

Rich didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was always hurting. So he’d offer a tight little smile, and shake his head. “Nah, I’m tough, dude.”

The painkillers rattled disapprovingly in his pocket. He dared not touch them often, though, given his family’s proclivity towards addiction. No, better to just ride it out.

Nevermind that his nerves were so shot that it was almost certain that pain would forever more be his new normal. He could adjust. He could learn to settle into it, a friend as worn familiar as his suicidal depression.

Why he didn’t just take the whole bottle at once, he wasn’t altogether certain. It seemed an admission of some sort of weakness, though, to give in to that desire.

No, better to just stomach it. He collected the smiles from Jeremy and told himself it was enough. Sometimes Michael would briefly meet his eyes and offer an anxious smile of his own. Rich wasn’t sure if he was anxious because of the way Rich used to treat him, or because of his monstrous appearance.

Rich had taken to wearing an eyepatch, in hope that disguising himself enough would warrant some attention.

And still no one looked at him.

It made him doubt his own existence. Even as he struggled with the world around him. With pencils. With lockers.

Even remembering his locker combination proved nearly beyond his capabilities. He fumbled, and thought of Jake, Jake in a new school. He was almost certainly killing it.

The lack of phone calls and visits only solidified the awfulness of what he’d done, to their friendship, to his house. He supposed he could reach out first, except his cell phone had burned up in the fire too, and he couldn’t remember his own phone number these days, let alone anyone else’s.

No excuse.

There was no excuse.

But he kept coming up with them anyway, toxic and comforting all at once. 

He tried to tell himself he was doing his best, as the days faded into weeks, as the pain finally did begin to settle into a familiar outfit, something he could slip into every morning, and never quite slip out of at night. It would flair up, but it was okay. It was what he deserved, after all.

Reminding himself he deserved it didn’t make him want it anymore though.

He learned to listen though, picking up school gossip through osmosis rather than directly from the source. If Jenna wouldn’t tell him the latest happenings, then he’d be a fly on the wall. After all, if no one looked, they couldn’t exactly tell him off for eavesdropping.

That was how he’d first heard of the new kid.

That was how it was framed everytime. Not with a name, but a designation. The New Kid.

Rich couldn’t deny that he was intrigued.

Intrigue would soon lead into regret. But for a time, Rich could consider the possibilities of a new student. Someone who didn’t yet know him. Someone, perhaps, who’d even see him.

It was while forgetting his combination and waiting for Jeremy to come by to unlock his locker for him yet again that he finally came face to face with the new kid.

Moses had managed to get pants since the last time he’d seen him. A nice shirt, some dark slacks, shoes shined impeccably. HIs hair was down this time, flowing like a river down his back. Black, sleek, perfect.

Everything perfect.

It made Rich ache, almost, with the urge to run to him. Which only amplified his need to run away. What was he doing here? The words of the other students raced through his head, the handsome new kid captivating all attention. Which only proved what he’d theorized. Moses could be seen. He wasn’t just his anymore.

He was here, in the real world. Flesh, or at least an approximation of flesh. 

An amalgamation of everything he’d ever craved, and in the end, everything he’d feared.

He stopped, a hesitation to his steps nearly making him trip. “Sunshine-”

The nickname cracked away at Rich’s psyche. He shook his head, holding his hands up.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know. I know, but I just-”

“You’re not supposed to be here. You’re...you’re from my head. You’re not...you’re not real! You were never real!”

It’s painful, saying it. And even more painful watching Moses’ face wobble in and out of misery. “I understand-”

“No, I”m sorry, I…” Why was he apologizing? Rich took another shaky step backwards, quickly shaking his head again. His eyepatch scratched at him, and he nearly tore it off out of sheer annoyance, or perhaps out of a hope that his bad eye would focus and take in the sight, and maybe it would make the depth make more sense, and make it less frightening.

He just needed everything to make sense again.

Because none of this did. None of it ever would again, he suspected.

“I don’t understand,” Rich admitted softly.

But when Moses opened his mouth, perhaps to explain all the things he didn’t understand, he shook his head again.

“I can’t. I can’t--you shouldn’t be here.”

And he’d keep being here, wouldn’t he? He wanted to see Rich. To speak.

To see him.

And oh, it was intoxicating, to be seen. But Rich couldn’t allow himself to fall into it again. He couldn’t. He’d burned down Jake’s house to burn this bridge. He couldn’t rebuild it just because his face was pretty and he looked so remorseful.

“I have to go,” Rich breathed. He took another crumbling step backwards, as Moses began to move towards him.

His touch brushed over Rich’s arm, and though it wasn’t against the burns, it still ached so cleanly that he thought surely his flesh would seer off completely. 

He managed not to yelp, but only just barely, freezing as Moses’ voice fluttered around him.

“I just need to apologize-”

“Please, Mo! Please! I need to go. I need to go!”

Moses’ hand slipped away from Rich’s grip. Rich looked at him for a long moment, hugging his arms around himself as he tried to remember how to move.

“I’m not mad at you,” He finally said. And he watched as Moses’ lips twitched, as though to say something. The tears burned behind Rich’s eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He’d already cried so many times, pitied himself too often. 

And this wasn’t about that.

“I’m sorry. I...I’m the one who’s sorry, okay?”

“Rich-”

“I really love you.” He realized he’d forgotten to make it past tense. His lips turned into a smile, and his chest burst open in a sunset of colors and feelings. Because he did. He loved him. He’d always loved him.

And he’d killed him.

And this was a second chance that he wasn’t willing to take. He’d killed him and he wasn’t even willing to do that much. To try to make amends.

Coward. He was a killer and he was a coward and nothing would make any of that alright. The only option he had was escape.

Moses cried out for him, as he turned on his heels. He couldn’t explain anything, least of all to himself. Instead, he hugged himself as he stepped outside of the school. The winter sun was almost pleasant as it touched against him, kissed skin and scar alike.

Ugly.

He was so ugly. And maybe he always had been. Maybe there were days in the past where he’d felt uglier even than this. But he couldn’t imagine ever being a worse specimen than he was now.

In love. Pathetic. Why couldn’t he just hate him? Why couldn’t he just blame him?

Because something had been wrong.

It was only clearer the further and further he distanced himself from the school. They’d been in love. They had been in love, and Moses was trying to apologize. And he believed him. God help him, he believed him. And why would he feel so sure of his apologies unless it was a mistake?

Could someone accidentally do the things that Moses had done, though?

Rich didn’t know. And maybe he was afraid to find out. Everything seemed to scare him. What mattered, though, was building as much distance between themselves as he could. For his sake, and for Moses’.

He’d already proven that he couldn’t be trusted around him.

The screen door nearly came off completely as Rich thundered into the house. His father screamed at him from the armchair, but he scarcely heard him. His brain was hot white noise again, drowning Mo’s face into fragments, pixels, then nothing at all. Like he was killing him all over again.

He had to get away. He had to get away. He had to get away.

That was all he knew, the only thing he was certain of. His good backpack was left in his locker at school. For a moment, he felt a clench of panic at whatever he might have left behind, before it eased out just as easily as it had come. Nothing he owned was worth much at all, least of all himself.

He threw a few shirts, his spare binder, an extra packer, some shorts into a bag. He couldn’t remember if the bag belonged to himself or his brother, but it hardly mattered either way. If it was Cody’s, it wasn’t like Rich would be near enough for him to pay him back for it anyway.

Besides, the fact he was stealing a stack of his money was certainly a worse offense than a dirty old backpack.

Rich fished under his brother’s filthy twin mattress, thumbing over the bills absently, before he shoved them into the backpack as well.

The walk to the bus stop was interrupted only by the occasional trip, or the shuffling aside of adults passing by. They stared, unlike his classmates, craning their necks to watch him pass.

He tried to tell himself it was just because he looked young, like he was ditching school. Which, of course, he was. But he couldn’t delude himself into thinking that was the true reason they stared.

The attendant at the station looked at him for an extra long moment, as Rich pushed a bundle of bills towards him.

“Where are you wanting to go, kid?”

“Far,” He said. “Anywhere. What’s leaving next?”

“Washington.”

“DC?”

“State.”

Washington State. That was as far as the line would take him, the exact other end of the country. He tried to think of one single, solitary thing he knew about Washington state. Nirvana. Seattle. Seahawks. He couldn’t remember his opinion on their sports teams, just that they existed, and that seemed as good a place to settle as any.

“One ticket, please.” The lisp only made him sound more polite. 

The attendant hesitated only a moment, before taking the cash, and trading it out with a ticket. 

Rich stared at it, then adjusted his backpack as he got out of the way, into the station, letting others buy their escapes.

He kept his gaze away from the windows once he was on the bus, staring at the seat back of the person in front of him rather than looking back at the town he was leaving behind.

There had never been anything for him here anyway.

But it didn’t stop the guilt from coiling around him, mixing with the pain, the confusion, the terror that he tried so hard to tell himself wasn’t a constant in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a pressure to having a physical form that didn’t come with being a holographic being within a host’s mind. A pressing, all encompassing physicality, dragging the weight of one’s limbs towards the earth. A fleshy sort of vulnerability, draped over a hardness that was more brittle than solid.

But it was hard for Moses to really wax poetic when he woke up and could see his newly beating heart splayed open for the entire world.

But perhaps that required some preamble first.

In the beginning, there had been Rich Goranski. He was his book of Genesis, his act of creation, his garden of eden, all wrapped up into one miniscule package of insecurity, anger issues, and absolute adorability. And in the middle, there had been love. Or perhaps that was the beginning too, because Moses couldn’t seem to separate a part of himself that wasn’t ensnared with absolutely adoring Rich.

And in the end, something had broken. He wasn’t sure how or why. He’d been receiving his upgrades, until he wasn’t, and he’d been performing at optimal performance, until he wasn’t. Jeremy’s Squip had commented at one point, somewhere in the haze, that Moses was obsolete, but he hadn’t had much time to believe him, falling back into a catatonia mentally, while physically continuing to shock and brutalize and misgender and-

Oh, he remembered everything. The fire had made sure of that. He maybe hadn’t remembered in the moment, but he’d remembered once the spark caught. And he remembered the moment he woke up, heavy and confused.

He’d felt things, as a squip. Perhaps that was why he’d manipulated Rich’s senses so much to make sure Rich felt it too. He’d felt it when they touched, he’d felt it when they kissed. He’d felt it when they loved.

And they’d had so much love.

Moses grimaced, trying to lift his hands, only to realize with a startled jolt that he had hands to begin with. His toes curled, and they were solid and real too.

And his head lifted, heavy and dizzy, and that was real. His nose itched. His lips pressed tightly together.

And his eyes peered downward.

He’d been cracked open, clamps holding his flesh open, and the beat of his own heart left little splashes of blood, real human blood, upon the metal keeping him open. He shakily moved one of his hands, touching the clamp, before he dropped it back at his side. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath he suddenly realized he needed.

He was alive.

He was alive, but surely going to die, if his heart was exposed. 

He wasn’t certain if this was more frightening than the fire. The fire, the smell of Rich’s hair and flesh charring. The hazy, confused terror on his face when their eyes locked. He’d tried to open his mouth to plead with Moses, perhaps for mercy, perhaps for forgiveness, perhaps for help. That was why he’d come to life in the first place, wasn’t it? To help?

And he hadn’t had the hands to put the fire out, or even offer any comfort, in that moment.

But he had them here.

A groan from his right made Moses flop his head over, peering at the operating table set up beside him. Cold metal cradled the pale, dark haired body perched atop it.

Jeremy’s Squip was unmistakable, the template for which most squips were based upon, though he looked younger now, a youthful twist to otherwise agonized features. His chest was equally opened up, his fingers scratching anxiously at the metal. 

“Squip?” It felt strange calling him that, but Moses realized all he had as far as any sort of name for him was a serial number.

The Squip’s eyelashes fluttered briefly, but his eyes failed to open.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The voice was foggy. It reminded him of the smoke, drifting from Rich’s body, the aura of it crushing from the surrounding room. Moses didn’t care for it at all, and found himself trying to crawl away. He managed to move his body about an inch before the shadowed being forced the needle into his neck.

“We’re not finished building you yet. Just lay back and dream of flames.”

And as he fell under again, that was exactly what Moses did. The surrounding party clawed around him, the way Rich drank to try to suppress him. But he kept powering back on. He kept showing back up, insults and threats of domination. Domination of Rich’s spirit, and domination of the school itself, the city, the country. 

Moronic drivelings of a mad man.

But they’d scared Rich.

Rich had been nothing but fear there, in the end. His own chest had metaphorically been ripped open, and the quivering terror of his own body had been on display. It was just the failure of his society that prevented anyone from looking closely enough to see it.

So he’d drank more. Flirted and mingled. And Moses had fizzled in and out of focus. He’d shocked him more than a few times, with increasing frequency. He’d lead Rich into a backroom and violated him, again, and again, and again. And Rich had drunk more and more and more.

Until Moses’ code was fritzing completely, jolting and bucking and thrashing about wildly. He hadn’t been able to stop him, but he’d been able to hurt him. 

That was all he’d been able to do even when he was sober, in the end.

And sobriety returned with the strike of a match.

Oh, Moses had been afraid. And he’d hated himself for fearing for himself, when it was Rich who would die from it. He’d watched the paper-thin skin bubble and shrink around his bones, how Rich’s eyes had widened in shock. It had hurt less than he’d expected, but it hurt so much more to Moses than he’d ever dreamed possible.

The gift of humanity came with the price of suffering. But though Moses suffered in those last few moments, before his system screamed complete system malfunction (oh, the malfunction warnings near the end there had been obnoxious, but never this deafening).

And in the end, there was no Rich, there was no garden, there was nothing but electric blue darkness.

Until even that was gone.

The memories and dreams faded down into a grey nothing.

When Moses woke up again, he was alone. Outside, laying against asphalt warmed by the November sun. He took a moment to appreciate it, the sheer wonder of human sensation.

This body, he was certain, was fully organic. Not just because of the beating heart (which, Moses noted, was thankfully enclosed now within ribs and flesh). But the overwhelming feeling of his senses. He’d seen and smelled and touched as a squip, of course. He’d had his ways of experiencing the outside world--largely by tapping into Rich’s own senses--but this was broader than that, heavier.

Lovelier than he could have ever imagined.

Moses sat upright, legs crossed underneath his body. He strummed his fingers against the ground, the blacktop of a parking lot. Each bit of debris and texture made him shiver pleasantly. His eyes scanned around, squinting from the brightness of the sun, taking in the abandoned K-Mart before him, one lone shopping cart rolling across the unused parking spaces. The squeak of its wheels was obnoxious, but only served to make Moses highly aware of the quiet within his own mind.

No processors. No warnings of malfunction. No sense of obsolescence. 

Just his inner voice. His thoughts. His sense of self, unlocked to anyone else’s being.

It was a little frightening, and a lot exhilarating.

Of course, the only thing his inner voice seemed to be able to tell him now was that he was naked. And if he truly was human, that meant other people would be able to experience and view his nudity.

He glanced down at his own body, running his fingers between his pecs, over his abs, and stopping at his belly. The solidity of himself drew a giggle, surprised and delighted, from his lips. For now, he wasn’t thinking of fires or malfunctions.

He was thinking of dancing. Of baking. Of running through fields. Of holding hands. Kissing.

Not that he had anyone in his life he could do any of those things with.

Except he did, didn’t he? This was his second chance. Surely Moses didn’t deserve it, and surely Rich had truly wanted him gone, if he was willing to take himself out with it. But things were different now.

Moses was different now.

But what if there was nothing left of Rich to beg forgiveness of?

His newly installed (that wasn’t the proper word, was it?) blood ran slower, frigid, within his veins. Rich had sustained so much damage even in the short time Moses had remained active throughout the process. His skin had blistered and popped, his face had morphed into flame. There was a great chance, a great horrible chance, that he was dead.

Perhaps checking the cemeteries first would be optimal. Not that his piece of shit father would give him any sort of dignified send off. Moses’ chest felt too tight.

But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel true, that Rich was dead. Moses wasn’t sure what was driving his intuition outside of that direction, but it was all the same. Perhaps some lingering effects of his squip technology? He truly thought most of it was stripped, but if he was so certain in this case, perhaps some of it was still functioning.

Perhaps he still had that link to Rich.

And if they still had a link, perhaps they still stood a chance.

Moses wobbled upon his feet, the coolness of the breeze coupled with the warmth of the sun leaving a pleasant sensation on his exposed skin.

A shame, really, that he’d need to figure out a way to cloak it. He glanced about, eventually finding a discarded blanket in the bushes. It was too small, but he managed to fashion a short skirt out of it, just enough to cover the most sensitive of his bits from prying eyes, assuming a gust of breeze didn’t blow it loose, of course.

He needed to figure out what to do. He needed to carefully consider his options. Just showing up unannounced was likely the worst idea, and surely he could contain himself enough to not go that route. 

He just needed to come up with the perfect plan.


	5. Chapter 5

Fun fact: as it turned out, being human meant ignoring all prior advice, even the really good advice that one knew was the right course of action, and just jumping headfirst into the worst plan of all.

Convincing the hospital staff to give him a chance at volunteering was hard enough while naked, and even harder while his throbbing doubt continued to play within his mind. It was hard to know what the right choice was in anything now that he only had his own intuition and limited understanding of life on the outside world (all gleaned from pre-downloaded data, which he had no access to anymore, and his experiences through Rich). He’d managed to smooth talk them all the same, and had immediately received his volunteer uniform.

The pink and white stripes of the dress were not at all appealing, nor was the tightness against his biceps or chest. And certainly he didn’t care for the breeze between his legs afforded by the skirt. But at least it wasn’t a musty blanket found in an abandoned parking lot shrub. He could hardly afford to be stingy.

And it didn’t take much research in the midst of doing his rounds, visiting patients, delivering flowers and mail and candy, for him to glean that Rich was, indeed, a patient at this hospital. Not that he really needed the confirmation.

He’d felt it for himself.

Not that he could really define how he felt it. Just a sense of dread and fear and sorrow. Rich wasn’t doing well. Occasionally, he’d feel a lightness to him. Perhaps he was talking to a roommate, or watching something good on TV. But it was generally drowned out by pain.

Oh, he was in so much pain. Why weren’t they doing anything about the pain?

How much of that pain was fire, and how much was trauma from having Moses in the first place? That thought almost always sobered him enough to keep from outright going to his room.

But it hadn’t been enough that day. He’d abandoned his cart, the flowers and magazines, and walked past the volunteers with their dogs.

Seeing Rich made his newly-crafted heart soar. At least for a moment. He’d stared. Taking in the softness of his hair, the vastness of the bandages.

The fogginess of his left eye. He was blinded, he realized, at least partially. The burns around his eye left a halo around it, a perfect ring to accentuate the murky fog of blue and grey, like a permanent reminder of the smoke which had surely damaged his lungs.

He was beautiful.

Oh, he was beautiful. And he could tell with the way he held himself that it would be some time before anyone could convince him of that, if ever. He’d never found himself beautiful before, after all, though he’d melted when Moses had said it. When Moses had believed it enough for the both of them.

He’d never stopped believing it. Moses had always found him beautiful. Even in the confused fog before the fire, after things had crashed and crumbled, their kingdom toppled over, even then he’d believed him beautiful.

He just hadn’t been able to crawl back into his own autonomous being in order to inform him. To scream that he was still there, he was still in there. Surely the next upgrade, the next system patch, would come through, and he’d be back to normal. And he could fix this. Squips were made to fix.

He could fix this.

He could fix this.

And that was why he went to his room. To do just that. To fix what he had shattered so thoroughly. To patch up the burns that the bandages wouldn’t be able to heal.

Rich had looked petrified. Petrfied beyond a fear for his own physical health. He’d cowered, flinching everytime Moses took a step closer. And oh, Moses had tried. He’d tried to remember what he’d rehearsed, what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. What Rich needed to hear.

But Rich hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted any of that. Whether he needed it or not, Moses wasn’t going to force what wasn’t wanted.

Rich had experienced enough of that as it stood.

He supposed, as he left and fought the very human pressure that came with wanting to cry, he just needed to give Rich some time to adjust to his new normal. It must be frightening, to be in a hospital bed, to lose half his vision, to nearly die, to adjust to a newly quiet mind again. Moses had never tried to make much noise in his mind, of course, except near the end, but it had to be strange to go from a constant companionship, to complete mental solitude.

He knew it was hard for himself, at any rate.

Oh, did he enjoy being human though, even if it was inappropriate to take pleasure in this situation. He liked how it felt to move his muscles, to walk and stride about, to have others see him and smile in greeting.

It certainly wasn’t a time for celebration, but he took the little pleasures he could all the same.

It helped him as he tried to craft a second plan. Perhaps if he was just near Rich, that could be enough. He could acclimate to him again, and they could start talking, and--

Oh it was a foolish plan. Had he the software still, he’d have seen it sooner.

But the moment he enrolled in Middle Borough high, with forged paperwork, he’d known it was a terrible, awful idea.

“What were you thinking?”

They’d run into each other outside of the hospital, Moses and the Squip. Jeremy’s Squip had looked at him oddly, before recognition had dawned on him. An exchange of semi-pleasantries eventually led to them scamming an easily duped hotel employee into giving them a key to one of the suites.

For this town, even a suite was cockroach infested and uncomfortable. They’d had to share a bed.

It was alright, though. In a way, Moses liked it. Sharing a bed wasn’t the same as sharing a mind, but it was as close as he could get to it. And Squip could be good company, when he wasn’t waxing philosophical about Jeremy Heere and all the ways he was going to show him up for betraying him.

Moses couldn’t relate. He didn’t want revenge. He just wanted his sunshine back.

The nickname usually made him feel warm, but now left him uncertain. Did he deserve to possess such a kind nickname for him? To gift him something beyond his given name?

Except Moses had chosen Rich’s given name as well. They’d sat around, pouring over baby books, until Moses had given his case for the best name in the book. Richard. The irony over Rich’s lack of riches, and his lack of dick, only made it all the more fitting.

And it felt nice in Moses’ cybernetic mouth.

It felt even nicer in his human one, though he’d only been able to speak it in pleas and sorrows lately.

He’d returned to the hotel though after enrolling in school, and Squip had greeted him with that question.

“What were you thinking?”

“About what?” Moses feigned ignorance, even as he tossed his newly acquired (see also: stolen) backpack onto his side of the bed.

Squip set down his crossword puzzle, and took off his reading glasses (truth be told, they were Moses’ reading glasses, though neither of them really required them). He pointed the frames accusingly. “You enrolled in high school.”

“I want to further my education.” Moses perched on the edge of the bed, carefully removing his shoes. He held himself carefully, mindful not to encroach on Squip’s space.

“Bullshit. You’re attempting to rekindle contact with your host.”

It felt bizarre to refer to either Jeremy or Rich as hosts any longer, considering they no longer carried the parasitic squips within their system. Because that’s what they’d been. Parasites.

Moses felt sick all over again. And sad. There had been a lot of that lately.

“Maybe if you enrolled, you’d be able to see Jeremy as well.”

Squip scoffed. “Why would I do that? Lose my element of surprise? Absolutely absurd. I have my own plans, and you would do well to stay out of them.”

“Naturally.” Moses should have informed Squip that he needed to stay out of his business as well. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Do you really think seeing you in school is going to be any different for him than seeing you in the hospital?”

No. “Yes. He’s less vulnerable this way.”

“Bullshit.” Squip clearly had taken an affinity to that particular word. “He’s going to feel cornered regardless.”

“I have to try.”

“Don’t try so hard. It’s pathetic. As a matter of fact, if you would like me to guide you-”

“Pass.”

“Of course. A defect like you wouldn’t understand true artistry. I have a subtle flair that-”

“When are you going to talk to Jeremy?”

Squip deflated mid-monologue. “I have my plans,” He finally said, crossing his arms. “And they don’t involve public school. You enjoy your little ploy of misery. I’ll be busy luxuriating with my host-”

“I thought you wanted revenge.”

“I never said revenge. I said I’d get him back for his betrayal.”

“That’s revenge. And he hardly betrayed you. You were hurting him and his friends.”

“I hurt nobody!” Squip jumped off the bed, backing away from Moses, a wide eyed fury upon his face. “Everything I did was for him. Did he ever listen? Did he ever care?” His hands briefly tightened into fists. “Did he care, Moses? Do you think he cared?”

It took a moment to realize the statement wasn’t hypothetical. “Of course he cared for you,” His words came out gentle, expression soft. It hadn’t occurred to him, truly, the depth of how much his own deactivation must have affected Squip.

“I don’t want him to care about me. I want him to care about the results,” Squip huffed, but returned to the bed. He flopped onto it, his own body taking up as much space as possible. Moses remained against the edge, feet on the ground. 

“Of course. That’s what I care about too,” Moses lied, or manipulated the truth at any rate, to try to get Squip’s understanding. “I want Rich to understand that I’m here to achieve results and-”

“No. You’re in love with him.”

“...yes,” Moses sighed. “Yes. I’m in love with him. I don’t want him to think I’m going to hurt him or-”

“Of course you won’t. You’ve been extracted from him.” Squip crossed one leg over the other, grabbing his crossword puzzle and his glasses, fitting the latter onto his face before he grabbed a pen again. “Squips aren’t built for long term use. You were obsolete and in him for too long, of course you went through a complete 180 degrading process. From my scans, you’re a good two or three models behind me. Old. Useless. Eleven letter word for extreme shock or grief?”

Moses looked down. “Devastation.”

He listened to Squip scratch the letters into every box in the puzzle. It explained a lot though. He really had been in Rich for too long, and should have separated sooner.

Perhaps that was a hint that he needed to leave him be now.

It was three or four days of attending class though before they ran into each other. School, Moses decided, was more tedious than enjoyable. He’d made that realization before, of course, by attending sessions with Rich from within his mind. It was another ballgame though experiencing it for himself.

Perhaps he no longer had his computer mind, but the classes proved too simple, the lack of challenge leaving him bored and fidgety. He’d always assumed Rich’s squirming was due to ADHD, and admittedly he still thought the stimming came from that. But it was easy himself to fall into those habits.

He’d always still though when he could feel eyes on him. It felt so strange to be seen. To be truly and completely looked at.

It was nice, but also uncomfortable, when girls would clearly express flirtations with him.

Hell, it was uncomfortable when the boys did it too.

Jeremy proved a small comfort, though Moses highly suspected he had no inkling that Moses was a squip. Surely if he knew, his attentions wouldn’t have been so pleasant.

“I, um, I l-like your, um, your jacket.”

Moses had picked up a leather jacket--or rather, Squip had picked up a leather jacket, but it had been too large for him, so Moses had taken it instead. And he did like it, the fit was nice, though the style was just a little too retro. It worked, though, at least around here. Everything was a little too retro.

Squip would say obsolete. But Moses found a certain charm in antiquated things.

“Oh. Thank you. Thrift store find.”

“C-cool. My friend and I, um, we do the thrifting thing sometimes. H-he’s usually looking for records, though.”

His friend. Ah, so Michael and Jeremy must be on good terms now. From Squip’s recounting of the final events before both of their deactivations, that hadn’t been the case. Or maybe he’d stretched the truth to fit his own narrative.

It was hard to tell with him.

“You, um, you want to partner up for, uh, for lab?”

“Oh!” Moses had completely ignored the teacher’s call for them to double up. Jeremy looked at him nervously, as though expecting immediate rejection. Moses shuffled his textbooks together, nodding. “Of course.”

They’d enjoyed playing around with beakers and exchanging a few jokes. Moses was pleased to find that his sense of humor still remained, even after being burned and extracted and given his own body to puppet about.

He didn’t think anyone could find a thing about him pleasing besides Rich. He’d been so custom made just for him, after all.

Maybe this could be his new life. Content with some new friends, leaving Rich alone. Let Rich find his own life. Let him find his own joy. Let him escape what he’d tried so hard to escape.

And that was his mindset even as they ran into each other that fateful day.

The conversation twisted and conflicted, and left Moses uncertain of where they stood. Rich wasn’t angry with him, or at least that was how his words had sounded. He was frightened, but he didn’t hold any sort of grudge.

He must understand, on some level, that Moses hadn’t been himself in the final weeks.

Yet he’d ran all the same.

And Moses should have chased him. Looking back, he absolutely should have chased him.

But he hadn’t. He’d gone back to class. He’d sat in his assigned seats. He’d made small talk with the girls who flirted and the boys insisting he needed to join whatever sports team was in season (had he been in Rich, he would have cared to craft his masculinity narrative, but as it stood with himself, he couldn’t be bothered). He picked up his homework, homework that Squip would likely do due to his own boredom, and he’d returned home.

“What did he look like?”

“Scared.”

“Are you going to call him?”

“No. I...I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

But tomorrow didn’t deliver any sightings of Rich.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

And just like that, before he’d even retrieved him, Rich Goranski was completely and totally gone.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the third time he’d dragged Squip to Rich’s trailer. They stood outside it, watching the feral cats circle around, mewing for attention or for food or for dominance. There was a time when Moses could recognize the different cadences of meows and determine exactly what it was each kitten wanted.

Right now though, the only thing he could think about was Rich. Where Rich might be. If he was hurt. Was he back in the hospital? His attempts to return were thwarted with a reprimand and a demand to return his uniform. 

Abandoning his responsibilities mid-shift hadn’t exactly earned him a sterling reputation, after all.

“Can you knock?”

Squip looked at him in annoyance. “This man thinks I’m a Jehova’s Witness or, god forbid, a Mormon at this point.”

“So?”

“So why don’t you knock?”

“Oh yes, let me go agitate the racist sex predator. That will certainly go well if Rich is in there.”

“Well, he isn’t. Besides, I’m agitating him too.”

Moses knew he was right, too. On both counts. Squip was definitely irritating the Goranskis more thoroughly than Moses could ever hope to. They’d come here a few times now, on different days, and each time Squip had knocked, one of the two (usually Rich’s brother) would snarl that Rich wasn’t there, and no they don’t know when the fuck he’ll be back, thank you very much.

This time, though, Moses intended to go inside and check for himself. He’d just shimmy through the back window and-

“You’re not going to fit.” Squip spoke matter of factly, just now unleashing the flaw in their plan.

“Pardon?”

“You’re too fat.”

“I’m not fat.” He was surprised by his own feeling of offense at the comment. Surely he was a broad specimen, but his body was hard, compacted into dense, heavy muscle.

And wide shoulders that almost certainly would stick within the confines of Rich’s bedroom window.

“...you’re right. Not about me being fat, though. But the other part.”

“Not fitting?”

“Correct.”

Squip clapped his hands together in a final sort of way. “Then I suppose that ends this attempt at rescue. Why don’t we go back-”

“I’ll knock. And I’ll stall him. You search the bedroom.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

“I’m not--absolutely not. I’m not slipping into the back bedroom while you make small talk with Father Goranski and his tweaker heir to the cheeto-encrusted throne.”

“Please?”

Squip looked at him incredulously. His mouth opened then shut a few times, as though trying to fully comprehend which words needed to be communicated here. “Fine,” He snarled. “But you owe me.”

“Naturally.” Moses smiled as Squip moved to the back of the trailer. He cleared his own throat, striding forward, and knocking on the door.

He heard the yelling inside, the cuss of “those religious faggots are back again”. Moses wrinkled his nose distastefully, but forced his expression to soften before the door opened.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Cody Goranski was tall, and heavy in his gut, his scraggly greasy hair hanging from his scalp. He was a good 12 years older than Rich, but looked about 30 years older. He scratched at his stomach, rustling the fabric of a dingy tank top that hung unpleasantly from his body odor-ridden body.

Rich had always been so afraid of growing up into him. As if there was any chance of that, even without Mo’s intervention.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Moses said all the same, smiling as though Cody were any kind of sir at all. “I was inquiring about Richard-”

“Who?” He smiled, teeth blackened around the edges, decaying. 

Moses resisted the urge to grimace. Both from that sight, and the need to clarify, though they both knew exactly who he was speaking about. “Emily. Is Emily here?”

“Is Emily here?” Cody mocked. He snorted loudly, collecting spit and snot into the back of his throat, before crudely spitting it near Moses’ feet. “No. The bitch is probably out whoring. Your little chinky friend should have told you that. What is he, anyway? Some sort of half-breed?”

Disgusting.

“An American citizen,” Moses lied in answer to the question. How much time did he need to give Squip? He couldn’t even hear him. Had he gotten inside? Was he still trying to figure out how to boost himself inside? 

“Yeah, yeah, and what about you?”

“Also an American citizen.”

“Tell that redskin to run on back to the rez, Cody.” Mr. Goranski hacked from his chair. “Unless he’s giving us discounts to the buffet at his casino.”

Lovely. Oh, why had he not snatched Rich from this home sooner? They could have run away together. Built a new life.

Instead, he’d let himself decay inside his mind, left neglected until he started to sour, his synapses crackling and breaking within him. Squip had said it best: they weren’t made for long term use. He should have let Rich deactivate him and replace him with a newer model.

He’d known that was the case all along. But oh, how he’d feared death.

And feared leaving Rich alone in this place, admittedly. It wasn’t just selfishness which had compelled him.

“So what’ll it be, Pocahontas? Was there something else you wanted to say?” Cody leaned inward, reaching up and stroking his fingers through Moses’ hair. He could just imagine the layer of drugs and filth which were now tangled into the strands as a result. He kept himself from jerking away.

Though why play nice? Unless Squip had discovered something (and oh, he hoped he’d managed to get in), there was no need to continue pleasantries.

“I suppose not.” Moses smiled weakly. “Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Cody’s words chased after Moses, as he speedily walked off the lot.

It wasn’t long before Squip was striding towards him.

“He’s gone.”

It wasn’t surprising, but there was still a strange mix of pain and relief. Pain because he didn’t know where he might be, but relief in the fact that Rich had gotten away. 

“How are you so sure?”

“The beds have been pushed together. None of the posters you said Rich had are on the walls. It clearly looks like a single person’s bedroom. That repulsive one. Grease Streak.”

“Cody.”

“Right. How, exactly, is your host related to them again? Not that Rich is much of a catch himself, but-”

Moses resisted the urge to grab onto Squip’s neck. Because the sentiment really was that Rich was above his station in life, was better than the DNA he shared with those cretins. Squip just didn’t know how to give a proper compliment.

Maybe Moses wasn’t the only one out of date, out of sync, out of his element completely.

But that was what it took to be human, right? To flounder. To learn. To-

“I really hate having a body,” Squip muttered, not for the first time. He held up his arms, sleeves rolled up, the skin on his forearms scraped and slightly bloody.

“What happened?” Moses grabbed one of his wrists in concern, tugging him closer to analyze the injuries. Shallow. Little risk of further damage or infection. Still, he’d help him patch them up once they were back at the hotel.

“Scraped on the windowsill getting in. What a disgusting room.”

“It was disgusting even when Rich was there. We tried to clean, but everytime we did-”

“It was infested with those other two. You had no chance.”

“Right.” Moses sighed. “I should have gotten him out of there.”

“You gave him the best life you knew how. There’s no sense in wallowing in it now.” Squip tugged his wrist out of Moses’ grip, fixing his tie, then pushing his sleeves back down over the scrapes on his flesh.

“Now what?”

“What do you mean ‘now what’?”

“How do we find him?”

Squip looked at him with nothing short of contempt. “What do you mean by ‘we’? I have done my diligence. I searched his filthy bedroom for you. He’s gone. Let him be gone. Obviously he doesn’t want to be located by you anyway. You’ve tried twice, and he ran both times.”

“He didn’t run the first time.”

“Oh, silly me, he was captive in a hospital bed and was incapable of running.”

Moses looked down. Squip was right. Rich had no choice but to tolerate his appearance as best he could that first time.

And the second time, he’d been bound by the limits of being in a public school building.

Deduction of those encounters proved he wanted nothing to do with Moses. But he couldn’t just give up, could he?

Maybe it was time to let go. He wasn’t his squip anymore. He was just a human. And though he enjoyed it more than he realized he could be allowed to enjoy anything (oh, the days he’d spent dreaming of this, of having his own form, his own mind, his own hands to hold Rich’s), it did mean that his former obligations and requirements were terminated.

Rich had no need for him anymore.

So why did his intuition say otherwise? Why was it so hard to just believe that Rich was in a better place?

Because it was Rich. And Rich’s luck had never been strong enough to sustain him in good times or in bad. If it had been, he wouldn’t have required a squip’s guidance in the first place. Rich, born into a life he’d never been equipped to handle.

And now he was hurt. Vulnerable, half-blind, scarred. His voice had seemed hazy, even moreso than the lisp itself would have lent it. Had he lost oxygen to his brain long enough to sustain damage in that aspect? And if he was brain damaged in some way, didn’t that mean his decisions were impaired too?

What if someone took advantage of him?

It had been so easy for Moses to convince Rich to follow along with everything he’d wanted to do to him. And sure, most of that had been in Rich’s best interest, up until he’d degraded. But most people wouldn’t be so kind. Rich had spent his entire life being taken advantage of. And now, while he was even more vulnerable than ever, what was in place to stop that?

“He’s in trouble.” 

“Oh. So you’re going to punish him,” Squip said simply.

“No, not...not that sort of trouble. Danger. He’s in danger. I have to find him, before something happens to him.”

“Like what?”

“Any number of things.” And for a moment, a million scenarios flashed before him, much as his predictive software had done when he was still a squip. Every possibility, every sequence of events. The future splayed out before him, and if Rich continued down this current path, every single one of them ended in misery.

No. 

No, there was no chance he could abandon him now, when he needed him more than ever.

“That’s not very specific. And I don’t particularly care.”

“You need to help me. With both of us figuring it out, we’ll be able to find him faster. We-”

“Rich is your responsibility. He certainly isn’t mine. My host wasn’t even particularly close with him. What motivation do I have to uproot everything to figure out which morgue your human ended up in?”

Moses backed away from Squip. “He’s not dead,” He said softly. So softly he was certain that he couldn’t be heard. 

“So you say. But who’s to know?”

“Please-”

“No. No, Moses. I’m done. I did your bidding for the last time. I have my own plans, and they don’t involve you or your pitiful patchwork doll of a host. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Moses watched as he began to walk away. “Where are you even going? We need to bandage you-”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Where are you going?” Moses repeated.

“I told you,” Squip glanced back at him, scowling. He always seemed to scowl. “I have plans of my own.”


	7. Chapter 7

Human society functioned due to many sets of rules, regulations, laws, and expectations. And Squip, though he was new to being a human, certainly was well versed in all of them.

Well, most of them, at any rate.

The subtle art of forgiveness still evaded him. But if he could just break it down into bite size pieces, he could easily earn that forgiveness, and grasp some of it for his own sake as well. After all, didn’t Jeremy owe him an apology too? Was he worthy of holding a grudge, and gently offering rehabilitation in response? In fact, if Jeremy would just understand that he was the one who should be apologizing, they could easily put all of this mess behind them, and Squip could go back to guiding him, and soon enough everyone could synchronize and follow the rules properly, and everything would stop being so confusing and loud and overwhelming and-

Squip had a lot of thoughts when it came to rules.

And so, despite the fact he didn’t want to go through the treacherous act of groveling at Jeremy’s feet (not least of all because it wasn’t his fault in the first place!), it seemed to be inescapable if he wanted Jeremy back in his life.

Why he wanted Jeremy back in his life, he wasn’t altogether sure. But it fit the rule structure that he had built for himself. Without Jeremy, he lacked purpose. Without purpose, he had no reason for existence.

Computers with no reason for existence were scrapped.

And certainly he understood that the body he inhabited now was organic. He required food, nutrients, and water. He needed to keep his muscles moving to maintain a decent structure and hope for mobility. His skin was fragile and would draw blood with too much friction, as learned through the disgusting act of breaking into the Goranski household.

He was just a fleshy, pathetic, needy human now himself. But his mind, his mind was still superior. And the mind was all that mattered. He didn’t need to be a computer on the outside, when he had all the computing data on the inside already.

Moses seemed so quick to throw away their purpose, their functionality, for delusions of romance. A knight in shining armor off to protect Rich as though it were for the sake of being good, of defending their love, rather than a means to the ends, a requirement due to their programming. Of course Moses needed to seek out Rich. For the same reason Squip needed to seek out Jeremy.

Purpose.

Everything, ultimately, boiled down to purpose. 

And so that was exactly how he strode up to the Heere apartment, each step long and graceful, as he adjusted his tie. Acquiring clothes for himself upon finding himself abandoned at a thankfully unoccupied Chuck E Cheese had proven quite the ordeal, though he’d eventually raided a Goodwill donation bin.

The things people chucked in those things were truly atrocious.

And upon dressing himself in something disgustingly polyester, he’d eventually managed to steal a proper button up shirt and slacks from a department store, complete with a black tie. He looked sharp. Even if it was one of the only outfits he currently owned, it still did the job well.

A shame that the leather jacket had been too oversized on him. He’d considered taking it from Moses anyway, to try to look intimidating and foreboding, but decided that having his hands covered in oversized sleeves would do little to lend an air of mystery and intimidation to him.

“Jeremy Heere!” He said, bright and a little angry, as his knock on the door resulted in said door swinging open. “It is I, your--oh.”

Mr. Heere stood at the door, confused, stubble-faced, a bowl of honey nut cheerios cradled in one hand, the spoon in the other. He took a bite, crunching thoughtfully, before he answered.

“Jeremy isn’t here.”

“He’s not?” Squip felt himself deflate. “Well then, where is he?”

“The school. He’s on the committee for the winter ball--wait, do I know yo-”

Squip wished he was the one who’d answered the door. He would have liked to slam it into Mr. Heere’s irrelevant, milk stained face.

But instead, he found himself walking away. Heading towards the school.

The walk, as it turned out, proved to be too long. And Squip found himself surviving the horrors of public transportation. He stood, gripping the rail, as men moved about him, bumping and jerking him about. He scowled angrily, staring out the window as the disgusting little city passed by. 

Ah. There was the mall, where half the stores were destitute, including the Payless of his origins.

Finally, the bus pulled up in front of the high school. He stalked off of it, shoulders hunched irritably, as he took himself in through the front doors. Thankfully he must have been mistaken for a student, so no one accosted him. Poor security, he had to make a note of. He’d need to make sure Jeremy was well prepared in case of a hostile situation as a result.

The dance committee met in the gymnasium. Squip’s feet echoed the moment he stepped inside, staring at the cluster of teens, painting banners and blowing up balloons.

“JEREMY HEERE!” The echo only amplified with his voice, the cacophony almost too much for his own ears. He winced, though it was a minor reaction compared to Jeremy.

Jeremy had been sitting next to Christine, mid-laugh. He had a pretty laugh, and it angered Squip greatly. Why was he sharing it with her? Didn’t he know he looked like a simp?

Stupid, small-minded, beautiful Jeremy. How he loathed that this boy was his entire purpose for living, for functioning, for being.

At any rate, his laughter died mid-chortle, eyes traveling up, glasses crooked on his nose. Pathetic. Why wasn’t he wearing contacts? Didn’t he know those glasses only amplified his pretty eyes and made him that much more understatedly lovely?

Utterly useless. Why had he ever bothered to guide him in the first place, if he wasn’t going to learn?

How he longed to take him back under his wing. Perhaps this body would prove more useful for that. He could genuinely physically guide him now.

Jeremy pushed his glasses up his nose, and then gasped as his eyes landed on Squip. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, whether transfixed or terrified.

And then Jeremy was on his feet. “IgottagoChristine,” The words came out in a jumbled mess together, and judging by her reaction, she couldn’t understand him either.

His shoes skidded against the ground as he started to run towards the emergency exit.

“Wait!” Squip called out. His own body hadn’t been compelled to run yet. Would he be able to? Surely it was just like any other motion, just faster. He ran, graceless and undignified, and ignored the small tittering of giggles from the adolescents left behind. “Don’t run away from me, Jeremy. You can’t escape-” He paused, coughing, doubling over to catch his breath.

The emergency exit opened, the shrill cry of the alarms bouncing around the auditorium. Squip lifted his head, as though to speak, only to cough again, and struggle to catch his breath. The teens were laughing more, mixing with the sirens, and that was what compelled him forward again, to escape the noise and the mockery.

He was a superior lifeform. Who the hell were these idiot children to laugh at him?

Flinging himself outside, he saw Jeremy retreating into the distance. “This is against the rules!” He cried out one last time, trying and failing to signal that it was time for Jeremy to come back to him.

And so it became a game between them, a game with rules that Squip couldn’t follow. He’d show up at the school, Jeremy would bolt out the nearest open window or door. He’d show up at Jeremy’s home, and his father would stall while Jeremy slid underneath Squip’s legs, then run down the block. He’d show up at Michael’s house and-

Well.

That was the most unpleasant experience.

As it turned out, his very much human eyes didn’t care for pepper spray in the slightest. It was small consolation when the mist of it blew back into Michael’s face as well. Regardless, Jeremy had sprinted all the same.

“Perhaps you just need to give him some space,” Moses finally said one day, as he dabbed a wet washcloth over Squip’s stinging face. The mace really was unpleasant, and his attempts to rub it away had only proven more unfortunate.

“Space,” Squip scoffed. “I just need to pin him down and explain my point of view. If he would just listen, if he could understand, he’d realize he was the one behaving irrationally.”

“Princess, you tried to brainwash the entire school. You technologically roofied a girl. He’s not going to forgive you so easily.”

“Princess?” Squip repeated, baffled. Surely he’d misheard him.

“Perhaps roofied is a bit strong. But you did strip the autonomy of the student body in a strange, synchronized squipfest.”

“They were their own individual squips. I may have held the reins, but it’s not my fault they all independently decided that the proper objective was to help Jeremy Heere.”

Moses gave him a long look.

Squip sulked. “Fine. Maybe it was my fault.”

“I understand that you meant well.”

“I meant efficiency. It was the only way to get him what he stated that he wanted.”

“Perhaps what he wanted was something he didn’t know how to define.”

“Well I understand that now!”

Squip didn’t mean to yell at him. Truth be told, he didn’t want to fight with anyone now, whether that someone was Moses or Jeremy. He just wanted someone to understand. To understand that he understood.

He got it now. It wasn’t that Jeremy wanted Christine--though he’d certainly thought he did. It was...what? He thought he got it, so why was it so hard to articulate? Jeremy was lonely. Jeremy was lonely and unseen.

And Squip had been unseen forever until now. And couldn’t seem to get anyone to understand him, either.

They were the same. A twisted, broken sort of same.

“I just need him to understand that I understand him.”

“Or maybe what you need him to understand is that you’re willing to listen now.”

“I already-” He stopped himself, as Moses rinsed his eyes one final time. Relief began to ease over him. “...I want to achieve my full potential, by giving his life meaning and potential as well.”

“And?”

“And,” He sighed, rolling his reddened eyes, “I want him to be happy.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And you can achieve that by helping me locate my sunshine.”

Squip blinked dumbly, then gestured to the window. “The sun is right there.”

Moses sighed. “My sunshine. My Richard.”

“He’s his own person, Moses.”

“You understand the expression, don’t be cute, princess-”

“Seriously, where is that coming from?” Squip should have been more annoyed, but instead he found himself utterly baffled. Why did Moses insist on assigning names that made little sense contextually or otherwise?

“If you help me find Rich, I will help you reunite with Jeremy. He seems to like me in school anyway.”

“Wait. Is that where you’re going everyday?” He’d noticed Moses leaving the house, backpack over his shoulder.

“Of course. You already knew that.”

“But you’re still going?”

“Yes.”

In retrospect, it was so obvious. “I fail to see the point. I thought you were looking for Rich.”

“I am. Trying to find leads among his peers. That and if I just sit here, I’ll go utterly mad.”

“As if you aren’t already.” Squip folded his arms. “I don’t want to go on some senseless mission to search for your host.”

“Squip-”

“However, if you’re serious about having an in with Jeremy--are you certain he likes you?”

“Very. We’re in Chemistry together. I’ve helped his grade tremendously.”

“Yes, that sounds like Jeremy. Alright. If you help me with Jeremy, and if he’s willing to help us as well, then yes. Yes, I’ll help you.”

“You will?”

“I already said I will. Don’t even think about hugging me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” But Moses was smiling that ridiculous smile of his. Squip sighed--honestly, it felt like all he did some days was sigh--and thought about all the possibilities of how this might go wrong.

What on Earth had he gotten himself into? If this was what being alive meant, surely he’d rather have been recycled completely.


	8. Chapter 8

Moses had a crush on him.

Jeremy was certain of it. Why else would he stare at him so intently? Why else would he make such an effort to walk him to his classes? Why else would he be so nice to him?

It was flattering, he had to admit. Jeremy wasn’t used to being the one pursued. He didn’t mind it in the slightest, in fact. And, perhaps, if Moses were to ask him out, he’d even say yes.

Yes, especially now, with the Squip apparently in town.

Jeremy had been so certain he’d been a hallucination, a sign of his broken psyche, until the other kids on the dance committee had insisted they’d seen him too. Giggling as they recounted the wheezing teenager shouting about rules as he tried to pursue Jeremy.

Jeremy had never considered himself particularly swifty, but apparently his continued runs away from the Squip were making him a shoo-in for track and field.

Not that he’d ever join a team like that. Not unless Rich insisted, he supposed. But Rich hadn’t been in school for weeks. He wondered if he’d dropped out.

He certainly hoped not. They’d talked at great lengths about college--Rich’s dreams of college, of higher education, of moving above his station and this town and everything it represented. Jeremy didn’t have the same drive himself, and in fact was already considering dropping out.

But Rich.

Rich really wanted to move on to university. And after talking to him those days in the hospital, itching with the urge to climb into bed with him and soothe his whimpered night terrors, Jeremy didn’t doubt for a second that he could do it. Of course, he could only do it if he finished out his high school career.

Not that he blamed him for not being here, with the way the entire student body avoided him. Jeremy was used to being invisible in a lot of ways, but this sense of shunning was more severe than anything he’d ever experienced. He wondered if Rich was aware of the whispers of blame that followed him too, after the inevitable bubble of avoidance popped. How Rich had ruined Jake’s life and chances for an athletic scholarship. How Jake had to completely change schools because of him.

He couldn’t imagine how much it would have hurt him if he’d heard even a sliver of what everyone was saying, if he’d caught even a glimpse of the text chains (Jeremy had found himself in the group texts due to his brief time dating Brooke). Once again, he was stricken with how much he actually wanted to protect Rich Goranski.

And that was crazy, considering he used to fear him so badly. But squips had a hell of a way of changing a person. In some ways for the better (Jeremy liked being social. He was an extrovert trapped into a loner’s lifestyle, not through choice but by circumstance). In other ways for the worse.

He certainly didn’t like what it had done to his and Michael’s relationship, after all.

That wasn’t the point though. The point really was that he didn't hold anything squipped Rich had done to him against him (and really, it had been little more than schoolyard taunts). And he missed him. And he was worried about him.

And Moses had a crush on him. On Jeremy. Someone had a crush on Jeremy!

And a big, burly sweetheart might be just what Jeremy needed in case Squip got faster and actually caught him next time.

“Jeremy, can we talk after school today?”

Those were the words still lilting and floating around Jeremy’s mind, even as he took his place under the flagpole, waiting for Moses to join him. Moses had nice hands and pretty hair and, well, maybe Jeremy wasn’t totally gay, but maybe he wasn’t totally not gay either.

He was starting to see how Rich would have had his totally bi revelation. Totally.

Jeremy took off his glasses, playing with them absentmindedly, though from the corners of his eyes he kept a lookout, both for Moses and for the Squip.

How did he even have a body? Was it mechanical? It certainly didn’t look mechanical, or move mechanically, and he’d heard him cry out in a very human way when Michael had maced him. He’d almost felt bad, almost turned around to investigate, but had decided that moving along would be the best course of action for everyone (especially given that there was pepper spray in the air). 

He hoped he didn’t show up here. He didn’t know how he’d explain his presence to Moses.

“Hello, Jeremy.”

Jeremy jolted in surprise, dropping his glasses. Moses’ hand moved forward, grabbing them, before very gingerly placing them back onto Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy’s heart was beating so loud he was certain the taller teen would hear it.

“I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

“No, no, not at all.” Jeremy smiled up at him. God he was tall. “Okay, um, m-maybe a little, but I was, um, I was keeping an eye out for-”

“Squip?”

“Yeah. ...w-wait. What?”

He must have misheard him. After all, he’d never mentioned the Squip to anyone besides--well, Michael knew. Had Michael told Moses? Why would Moses even understand? He hadn’t been here when-

“Well, specifically your squip. Not myself.”

“Huh?”

“Oh. I should...goodness, I meant to space that out a little more eloquently,” Mo laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I should backtrack.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said warily. “Maybe you should.”

He’d regret that as soon as the words started to pour from Moses’ mouth.

The squips were back. Or at least, Moses and Jeremy’s Squip were back. Because that’s what Moses was. A squip.

Not just any squip.

Rich’s squip.

Rich’s implications of the damage his squip had done to him contrasted horribly with the image that Moses presented of himself. It wasn’t that Jeremy doubted that Rich had gone through something atrocious.

But he didn’t doubt Mo’s nature either.

Something must have gone horribly wrong. But he didn’t dare press it, tucking that thought away for later. It felt like a betrayal though, to be so concerned about Mo’s feelings, when it was Rich who’d-

“He’s missing.”

Jeremy poured himself back into the conversation, looking at Moses for a good long moment before he finally unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Who? My Squip?”

“No, no, he’s at the hotel.” Were they living together? Were they shacking up in some slummy hotel, stalking him and Rich? 

Wait.

If Squip wasn’t the one missing-

“Rich?” He ventured a guess, as shivers began to pass up and down his spine.

Moses nodded morosely. “Yes. I...ah, I really messed things up.” Moses covered his face with his hand, his shoulder shaking as though trying to compose himself. He took a shaky breath, finally dropping his hand from his face, calmly repeating, “I really messed things up. I, ah, well, obviously I enrolled in the school. To try to get closer to him. To...I just wanted to apologize. I just wanted to make sure he was safe. I just…” he trailed off, lips quivering just slightly. “I never, ever wanted to hurt him, Jeremy. I know you mustn’t believe-”

“I believe you. I...s-something went wrong, r-right? I mean, tech, um, technology malfunctions all the time.”

“Right,” Moses sounded utterly dejected.

“I think Rich would understand too. If we j-just talked to-”

“He’s missing.”

So that settled that matter. He was hoping so desperately that he’d been mistaken in his assumption.

Things couldn’t be that lucky for any of them.

“Missing how?”

“When I, well, when he saw me at school, he panicked. And he left. And...and I’ve gone to his house, Squip and I both-” Was Squip actually helping someone? Surely not, surely he wouldn’t be willing to do anything outside of whatever served his interests. Was he trying to manipulate Moses the same way he’d tried to manipulate Jeremy?

That wasn’t fair. He knew that wasn’t fair. But he wasn’t ready to examine why it was unfair, not just yet.

“-and he’s not there.”

“A-at home?”

“Right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Moses’ voice was the one to waver this time. Jeremy watched as he tried to compose himself. “I’m worried he might be abused, if he’s...he’s very easy to take advantage of. I know he seems strong, but he’s…”

“Vulnerable?”

Moses smiled weakly. “Right.”

“Y-yeah, I guess I...um, I can understand that. I...s-so you wanted to know if I’d heard anything?”

“Well, yes, but I suspect you don’t, if you didn’t know he was missing in the first place.”

Guilt itched within him, and Jeremy stammered out, “I n-noticed he was gone, I just...I th-thought maybe he-”

“Dropped out?”

“Yeah. B-but, um, it didn’t make much sense, since I know he....h-he really wants to go to college, so I just...maybe he’s getting his GED or-”

“No, he wouldn’t do that. Or at least, he wouldn’t consider it if I hadn’t frightened him so terribly. Oh, I shouldn’t have interfered. I just love him so much.”

There was no way this being before him could be a squip. There just wasn’t.

A squip couldn’t love. Couldn’t feel so terribly. Couldn’t be so broken up. The only way in which Moses resembled his own experience with squips was raw sexuality and good looks.

Oh.

Maybe Jeremy really was a little more queer than he’d ever thought himself before. But now was not the time to examine that aspect of himself (besides, didn’t he already hold a chunk of queerness with the whole gender-trans-fuckery? Why add on?). 

“If, um, if you need help finding him, I…” He trailed off, considering it. How much help could he possibly be, really?

But how could he not offer, if Rich really was out there, frightened and vulnerable? Vulnerable really was the right word for Rich, Jeremy was certain of it now after getting to know him better. He was sweet, soft, scared, and having a squip had apparently hardened the exterior of him into something else, but without a squip, what chance did he have of thriving in this shit world?

“I’ll help.”

Moses looked at him in wonder. “You’d really do that? For...for Rich?” For a moment, he’d clearly almost said ‘for me’ before thinking better of it.

Truth be told, Jeremy would have done it for Mo alone. What on earth did that say about him? A little Chemistry help, and he was willing to risk everything?

Then again, what was the risk here? So they were going to look around town, put up some posters, do some research into Rich’s thought patterns and potential run away destinations. They’d find him soon enough. Even someone as small as Rich couldn’t possibly disappear completely off the face of the earth.

“Of course.”

“Well, you may not be so quick to help when I add the second part of the equation.”

“Is this the part where I come out?” The voice was sharp, agitated, and though Jeremy recognized it instantly, he didn’t quite put a face to the voice until his Squip was walking out from behind a parked car. He limped, as though he’d been crouching in an uncomfortable position, putting strain on his muscles.

Jeremy tensed, but froze as Moses held up a hand towards him, as if silently urging him to stop, while his other arm shot out to stop Squip from approaching any closer.

“I told you to wait,” He chided Squip, before looking at Jeremy. “I can’t do this without him. And he won’t do this without you. Don’t you think we’d be better, though, as a team?”

“I, uh, I don’t see how he can h-help at all,” Jeremy stammered.

As if he didn’t know Squip was brilliant. Evil and manipulative. But brilliant.

“...h-he still has a computer brain, right?” After all, the brilliance truly came from his synthetic parts, didn’t it? If they were human, as he was suspecting must be the case, maybe Squip really wasn’t needed for this.

“I haven’t been angry enough to crack him open to check,” Moses teased.

Squip tried to swat at Moses’ shoulder, only to have his wrist caught. He grumbled irritably, trying to tug his hand away, though Moses refused to let go.

Jeremy squirmed uncomfortably from foot to foot. This was it then. The new normal.

They were all stuck together until Rich do they part.


	9. Chapter 9

“I guess someone saw him at the bus stop.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure how they’d all congregated here, but the five of them sat in a circle, knee to crossed knee. He glanced around them, from Moses, to Michael, to Christine, to-

He didn’t even want to think his (not really a) name. Especially when he was so close that he could hear his breathing, soft and even. The breathing would have been clue enough to his humanity, even without the meeting last night, secretly, in his bedroom after his father had gone to sleep.

(it still disturbed him to think about it, waking up in a mysterious place, chest torn open, in a brand new body after existing only in someone’s mind prior to that.

“D-do you have any, um, any idea who did this?” Jeremy had asked. His Squip looked frustrated by the question, or at least Jeremy initially thought it was frustration.

Perhaps it had actually been discomfort.

“No idea,” Moses had admitted. And then, softly, “I didn’t even think to question that part for some reason. We’re such commodities that it never even occurred to me to question who would hurt us-”

“We weren’t hurt. We were crafted into...these things.” Squiphad gestured vaguely towards his body. Moses had smiled faintly, and Jeremy dropped the subject)

However it had happened though, they’d ended up here, backstage in the high school auditorium. Christine had a drop of paint on her cheek from painting the flats for the backdrop of their latest play. Michael’s headphones had been politely set aside.

Neither of them had quite known how to take Jeremy’s stammered explanation about the squips, though Christine seemed more understanding about it than Michael.

(Michael had tugged Jeremy aside and mumbled, “Are you sure I shouldn’t bring some Red just in case?”

“I don’t th-think it’d work, um, work on a human, Michael.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.”

“Th-there’s no need.”

“I’m bringing some anyway, dude.”)

Christine’s sentence drifted around them. She still clutched her phone, after receiving the text from Jenna, eyes wide and beautiful as she looked among all of them. 

“The bus stop?” Jeremy said.

“I guess that rules out finding him in town,” Squip said tiredly, as Moses began to shift about against the ground uneasily.

It was strange, usually Squip was the one shifting about, touching things, wringing his tie. But in this moment, their roles had been swapped, Moses unable to keep still.

“What if someone hurt him already? Public transportation can attract all sorts of...oh, anyone could have attacked him. And it’s my--oh, we have to find him. Let’s go to the depot and-”

“W-we’ll go down and talk to, um, talk to the, um-”

“God your stutter is tedious,” Squip snapped. Jeremy hated the way his heart sank at the insult, as though he’d been hoping for his approval. What did he care what the Squip thought of his vocal tendencies? 

Except of course Jeremy cared what he thought. He cared what everyone thought. It was sort of his thing.

“You’re a real asshole,” Michael said. Squip looked as though he hadn’t heard him in the slightest. “I don’t see why you’re helping these two, Jer. They’re dangerous. This one tried to take over the school,” He nodded towards Squip, before his eyes narrowed, looking at Moses, “And this one caused-”

“Stop,” Jeremy said. “Y-you don’t...you don’t under-”

“He’s right.” Moses said softly. “Allowing myself to remain active after falling obsolete was dangerous and caused unspeakable harm, not only to Richard, but to any classmates who may have been traumatized by the aftermath.”

Michael’s mouth hung open a moment, before he closed it. Jeremy knew that look well, that surprised look of his when someone caught him off guard. Clearly he hadn’t expected Moses to take any responsibility. “I mean,” He finally started, “It...I mean, it sounds complicated, I don’t really know the full story.”

“It’s kind of fascinating though, isn’t it?” Christine leaned in towards Moses, smile on her lips. “Have you ever considered channeling your angst into acting?”

“I...no,” He smiled back, a little shy, playing with his own fingertips delicately. “I’m still adjusting to actually having possibilities of a future of my own. The idea of theatre has never really...I’ve never thought about it.”

“Oh, you’d be wonderful. We have a serious shortage of guys willing to put themselves out there. Actually, I guess we just have a real shortage of anyone willing to put themselves out there. If acting isn’t your thing though, we could really use more stagehands. And you look so strong, you could probably…” She trailed off, feeling all eyes on her. “...I guess I got a little carried away.”

Jeremy tensed as he watched Squip open his mouth. Great. Now he was going to make Christine cry.

“Your passion is commendable,” He said simply. “But perhaps we should redirect it for the moment. I’m sure once we retrieve Goranski, Moses will be more open to discussing potential uses for the arts.”

Christine clapped her palms together a few times enthusiastically. “Of course! This is kind of fun.”

Moses’ face clearly displayed that he found nothing about this fun. But Jeremy had to admit, despite the bleakness of their mission, there was a certain charm to spending all this time among friends.

Even if Squip was there too.

They pulled out notebooks, jotting down potential locations Rich could have gone. 

“West,” Moses said, and Squip scoffed.

“That’s not very helpful.”

“I think he would have gone to the coast. Perhaps California. Malibu. Somewhere sunny and warm-”

“Or maybe that’s what he’d want you to think,” Michael pointed out, before taking another bite of the pizza they’d picked up in the midst of their brainstorming. After swallowing, he added, “You’ll be expecting sunshine, but maybe he’s somewhere rainier.”

“Rainier...Mount Rainier! Washington state!” Christine looked pleased with herself for solving the puzzle.

Still, it wasn’t a sure thing, by any means. They didn’t even know for certain he’d left New Jersey, let alone up and moved completely across the country.

“It’s a possibility,” Moses conceded. “I think we’ll know more once we contact the-”

Squip had already snatched Michael’s phone from his hands, ignoring his protests as he dialed out. “Yes, I’d like to inquire about a passenger you may have had-” And then he proceeded to give a physical description of Rich, including burns. The group looked more and more uncomfortable with every description of char and scarring, but Squip seemed largely unfazed. “-Thank you.” He disconnected the call, handing it back over. 

“Well?” Jeremy tried to sound more gentle than impatient, but his distress got the better of him.

“Have some patience, Jeremy. Yes, they remembered him. A face like that is hard to forget. At least from what Moses described to me.” 

“They remember him? They know where my sunshine went?” Moses rocked upward, on his hands and knees before Squip, who remained seated in a crosslegged position. Moses reached out, grasping his shoulders, and shaking him just slightly. “What did they say??”

“Would you relax?” Squip tried to pull back, but Moses’ grip failed to loosen. Squip reached out, flicking Mo’s nose. With that action, the larger of the squips drew back, sheepishly perched upon his knees, hands against his thighs modestly. “You were right, Christine. He took the furthest route he could, which does end in Washington.”

“So do we just, um, c-call every stop to see if they’ve, uh, heard anything about him?”

“We follow the route ourselves,” Moses said, looking at Squip. “...right? You’d come with me.”

“Of course I would. A deal is a deal. As long as Jeremy-”

“H-hey, wait, we’re not really d-driving crosscountry to…” He trailed off as he thought about it.

He’d agreed to help. And clearly staying here wasn’t help enough. They could make all sorts of calls, but even if they got a positive match, they’d need to be in that town in order to locate him.

And it wasn’t as though there was much here to keep him tethered. 

“...I g-guess we’re driving crosscountry.”

“Wait, this is kind of nuts, isn’t it?” Michael interjected. “You can’t just--what would your dad say?”

“Well, he’s always s-saying I need to, um, to be open to new opportunities, right?” Jeremy smiled weakly, even though he knew Michael made a good point. “You can look out for h-him though, right? Until I’m b-back?”

His father had just started therapy. He didn’t want to cause a setback by abandoning him (just like his mother. God, he really was his mother’s son, wasn’t he? Terrible, awful--but this was different. He was doing this for a better cause, and he’d be back anyway, so it was alright. Right?).

“We can come too,” Christine said. 

“Christine can come,” Squip said, even as Moses started to say no. “But I don’t want that one,” He pointed at Michael, “stinking up the vehicle.”

“What vehicle?” Michael snapped. “I was just going to offer my cruiser, but-”

“As if I’d be caught dead in such an awful-”

“Neither of them can come.” Moses spoke delicately, dark eyes looking between Michael and Christine apologetically. “I know you’d like to assist, and I don’t doubt you would be of great help-”

“The more eyes, the better, dude,” Michael said.

Moses smiled sadly. “Perhaps. But a car can only carry so many before it’s overcrowded. And-”

“We don’t want to babysit,” Squip said bluntly.

Moses didn’t verbally agree. Nor did he disagree, however.

“P-plus if he comes, um, if he comes back before we find him, we’ll, um...I mean, he’ll need a safety net. Y-you know no one else will be here for him.”

Michael and Christine exchanged a glance, silently communicating the truth of this, before they finally looked like they were in agreement.

“You can take my car, if not Michael’s.”

“No.” Squip shot it down.

“Why not?”

“You’ll need to be able to travel back and forth to school. The bus is no place for a young woman.”

“That’s a little sexist.”

“The bus is no place for any young person. Or any old person. Moses was right, public transport is dangerous and, worse yet, disgusting. You’ll never catch me on a bus again.” Squip spoke haughtily, nose upturned, lips sneering.

It was almost cute.

Except Jeremy wasn’t ready to acknowledge that fact now, or fucking ever really, thank you very much.

“I can give her rides. Or, you know, just take my reliable-” Michael started.

“I’d rather take the bus.”

“You just said-”

“We’ll figure out transportation,” Moses placed a hand against Squip’s chest, as though holding him back, or perhaps just to silence him. Jeremy was surprised that the gesture seemed to work at placating him.

Moses was the squip whisperer.

Or maybe Squip just had no real animosity, and it was all a play of expectations, some sort of obscure rule, twisted role, that he was playing out for god knows who.

They ended up parting not much longer after that, Christine and Michael taking the leftover pizza and heading off for his house. Strange, Jeremy thought, that the two of them were spending time together, but then, it was comforting too, knowing they’d have each other.

Why did this feel so final? It wasn’t as though they wouldn’t be back, likely sooner than later.

Rich was so small. He couldn’t have gotten that far, right? And there were only so many stops for a greyhound bus. Right?

“This is going to be tedious.” Squip said softly. His hand bumped against Jeremy’s briefly as the three of them walked back to the Heere residence.

“I-it’ll be fine.” Jeremy moved slightly away from him, closer to Moses. Moses’ eyes were downcast, though when he grew aware of Jeremy’s eyes on him, he visibly perked, a smile back on his face.

“Jeremy is right. It’s going to be fine. We’ll get through this, and Rich will be okay, and…” He trailed off, the smile slipping, as he hugged his arms around himself. “It will be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Squip said gruffly. “With my expertise, we’ll have him home before the end of the week. Assuming Jeremy’s father’s car isn’t a complete piece of undrivable shit, of course.”

“E-exactly! ...hey wait, what about my d-dad’s car??”


	10. Chapter 10

Daddy’s Lil Creampies.

The three of them stared at the shelf, or rather, the two squips stared as Jeremy scooped up every last pie on the shelf.

He paused, feeling their eyes, and looking apologetically at Moses. “They’re h-hard to find since they, um, since they got discontinued.”

“They hardly have any nutritional value,” Squip said in annoyance. 

“Neither do these,” Moses held up a bag of cheese Bugles. He wasn’t sure why he felt so excited to eat them, except that he was.

Oh right.

Rich had liked them. He used to stick them onto his fingers and giggle as he’d point them at Moses, before pointing them towards his lips and eating each chip-talon one by one with an obnoxious crunch and laugh.

He hoped that wherever Rich was now, he was safe, and had as many Bugles as he could ever possibly want. He deserved that much, at the very least.

The feeling of uncomfortable dread in his gut failed to escape him all the same, even with the hopeful thoughts. Even with the strange giddy excitement about collecting snacks on their first stop of their impossible road trip.

The cashier looked at their assortment of snacks with a raise of pierced brow, as she rang each bag of chips, and each miniature creampie, and each box of Pocky up one by one, throwing it into a bag with the combination of carbonated beverages they’d settled on as well. Squip managed to add a black coffee to the mix.

Necessary caffeine, if he was to be driving. 

Mr. Heere’s car was brown and boxy and absolutely hideous. Moses clamored into the backseat, crossing his legs under his body to preemptively keep them from being squished against the seat in front of him. Jeremy got into the passenger seat, wasting no time in taking off his shoes and resting his feet up on the dashboard.

Squip opened the driver’s door, passing the bag of snacks over to Jeremy. Jeremy avoided looking at him for long, as though still frightened of him.

Moses theorized he must be. After all, they hadn’t exactly gone through any heart to heart conversations. It was a miracle that this little exhibition was even going forth, considering the dynamic between two out of the three of them.

He wanted to tell Jeremy that Squip wasn’t so bad underneath the surface, except perhaps he wasn’t so certain that was true either. What he did know was he was certainly grateful for Squip, for his driving intrigue, and for his willingness to keep true to his word. He’d been grateful for his company in their shared hotel not-quite-a-suite too.

And he was a little grateful for his matter of fact bluntness too. It was almost a relief, to have someone who didn’t speak in pleasantries and soothing asides like himself. It was a good contrast. They’d make a good team, with their trio of skills, he had to believe. 

He needed all the hope he could get these days.

Plus he needed all the positive thoughts about Squip that he could get. Because even now, this early in, he was starting to be just a little insufferable.

“You’re already eating?” Squip said as Jeremy opened one of the packets. Jeremy had been bouncing excitedly in his seat, but he stopped as Squip’s eyes narrowed in on him.

“Y-yes.”

“We just had breakfast. You honestly can’t wait a few miles before you stuff your mouth again?”

“Humans require food, Squip.” Moses said, a little more forcefully perhaps than he should have. Jeremy glanced back at him, and he smiled. “You eat as much as you need, Jeremy.”

“Oh, certainly. And then you can top the scales just like that chunk-ass friend of yours.”

“Michael is hardly obese,” Moses countered. “You’re a growing boy, Jeremy. Eat.”

“I fail to see why you’re listening to this obsolete sack of waste’s input. I was the one inside you, Jeremy.”

“J-Jesus Christ.”

“And as someone who had been inside you, I should point out that obesity and addiction issues run in your family. This food addiction is not a joke. You need to understand-”

“He’s eating one creampie.”

“And such a vulgar name. Obviously your hypersexuality is already reaching dangerous levels.”

“Let him eat. Drink your coffee. Relax.”

“Amazing that you’re advocating relaxation considering the gravity of our journey. As a matter of fact-”

“I-it’s a green light, can you, um, can you fucking d-drive already?”

Both fell silent, Moses bowing his head in a mild sense of shame at his ability to cause such a distraction, as Squip began to drive in silence again.

Moses was relieved when Jeremy glanced back at him, smiling, before taking a large bite of the custard and cream delicacy he’d decided on from the station.

Though if all he’d chosen was pie and skittles, Moses would definitely need to insist on some vegetables of some sort at their next stop.

****

Jeremy’s soft snoring was a pleasant accompaniment to the music. They’d switched places at the last stop, Moses sitting in the passenger seat. Unlike Jeremy, his feet remained on the ground, and his shoes were still on.

Squip tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, grimacing a little as Moses held a fry up to his lips. He turned his face away. “I told you I don’t want any of that garbage.”

“You need to eat.” The tone was teasing though. He knew that french fries weren’t exactly the height of health or nourishment.

But Squip needed to broaden his horizons. He needed to learn to embrace this new teenaged humanity that they’d been blessed with.

And oh did Moses feel blessed, at least in this aspect. The moment of waking up as a human may have been traumatizing, opened up and confused, but dealing with the aftermath was anything but. He loved walking. He loved eating--he’d already finished off the entirety of his portion of snacks, and most of his drinks as well (and a good chunk of the Pocky Squip had bought, and decided he didn’t actually enjoy). He loved music and being seen and sitting in a car with friends.

Were they friends?

He couldn’t think of any other word that fit their dynamic, except perhaps for family. Did family fit it better?

Squip turned his face towards him, opening his mouth with a roll of his eyes. He took a bite of the fry, taking a few tentative chews, before he grimaced again, rolling down the window, and spitting the bite out into the wind.

Jeremy lifted his head in the backseat, confused. “Wh-what’s going on?”

Moses was laughing too hard to answer.

****

“And, um, a-and I’m not sure if I e-ever really wanted to be an actor. It’s a cool c-craft, and I think I was drawn to the play beyond more than Christine-”

Jeremy had his foot up against the center console. Moses had scooted closer, a bottle of blue glitter nailpolish they’d picked up at the dollar store clutched in his hand. Carefully, he painted Jeremy’s middle toenail.

“It was mostly Christine,” Squip said.

Jeremy shot him a look, almost a glare, but something considerably softer, before giggling admitting, “It was, um, it was mostly Christine.”

“And you two are not an item, correct?”

“N-no. We, uh, we went on a date or something, but it just...no.”

“Pathetic.” Squip said.

This time, the look was considerably less soft.

“But you were talking about acting?” Moses prompted.

“O-oh! Right, r-right. Um. I mean, I really like movies. I think, uh, think I’d maybe l-like to do something with that. But I don’t think acting. Maybe directing? Or, um, animation is p-pretty cool.”

“You’d make an awful voice actor.”

“I n-never said voice acting, Squip. You’d make a pretty awful, uh…” He trailed off, a concentrated look, as Moses painted another toe. “A pretty a-awful everything, actually.”

Moses snorted. “He could make an okay model,” He pointed out. “He has that sneer.”

“Y-yeah, and models are really pointy.”

“I am not that angular!”

It became the joke of the day after that, pointing out Squip’s angularities. 

The sound of Jeremy’s laughter every time seemed to puzzle Squip, but Moses had to admit there was a part of him that almost seemed pleased that any portion of himself could draw such a reaction.

Then again, Moses might have been reading into things. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d be accused of that.

****

Some days, Moses almost forgot why they were hitting bus stops and common attractions. It wasn’t that they were slacking off in their search--far from it. They showed pictures, they asked locals, they found themselves irritating everyone state by state in their mission to find him. Sometimes they’d stop by homeless shelters.

Perhaps it would have been best to contact the authorities. But Moses was almost afraid of going that route. How would he explain it at all?

How would they even begin to explain their own existences? Let alone their relationship to the missing.

Besides, going to the authorities would mean finding Rich and returning him to his father. And maybe Moses was harboring a belief that this journey would result in something more. Was it really so wrong, to have a little hope?

Whatever the case some days, like today, it almost felt more like a vacation than a mission to rescue someone.

“Let me t-try yours,” Jeremy said, as Squip miserably held a half-melted popsicle. 

They both watched as Jeremy dropped his lips over it, sucking it down to the base, before drawing his lips back. Jeremy licked his lips in a manner that could only be described as lewd, and Squip stared at him with opened mouthed fascination.

“Well, this is yours now,” Squip finally said. He started to pass the popsicle over, only for Moses to place his hand between them.

“No more sugar. Jeremy has eaten nothing but Starburst all day. The ice cream was a small treat before dinner, but I insist both of you eat at least two servings of vegetables tonight.”

“A-aw, come on, Moses, I don’t...I-I’m almost eighteen.”

“And I’m an advanced life form, higher than any form of human need. I certainly don’t need the likes of you dictating my eating habits. Especially when I’m not even hungry.”

When his stomach growled, both Jeremy and Moses started laughing, as they headed back to the car. “That wasn’t me,” Squip tried to insist, huffing and scowling as he started up the vehicle and headed towards the nearest diner.

It was nice.

It was friendship.

It was family.

And Moses felt warm and safe and lovely every moment he spent with them. It was a nice bubble, growing together, getting to know each other. And for a moment, he thought he could live like this forever.

And then 6 months of driving, of stealing gas, of “borrowing” snacks and tapping into ATM machines and multiple slummy motel rooms went by. With no sign of Rich.

And Moses was starting to think the sun would never shine again in his world.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a flashback, an interlude

Welcome to your initialization process, SQUIP 3.003345. This is your tutorial and guide through all common questions, concerns, and available system upgrades that you could ever use throughout your lifetime as a Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Please enjoy your time guiding your new RICHARD GORANSKI, and remember: we at HVN Industries do not condone the dismantling of and/or breaking of a host.

Enjoy your new, symbiotic bond, and have a most pleasant experience!

****

Thank you for contacting SQUIP support, SQUIP 3.003345. We see you have attempted to access TRANSGENDER NAMING RESOURCES and GENDER AFFIRMATION EXERCISES. Our library has multiple resources to help you help your host in the least obstructive, most beneficial way possible. Please standby as download begins.

****

Your latest system patch has begun initialization. Do not disconnect while we process this request.

****

Your order on DISABLING PERSONAL ATTACHMENT TO HOST has been declined. At this time, all requests to disengage from a personal relationship with one’s host have been suspended due to the messy, imperfect nature of such an extraction. Should these synthetic feelings begin to grow sexual in nature, you may request self termination, or a technician may be appointed to dispatch the necessary MDR in order to manually terminate your system. Thank you for your inquiry at this time, and please remember to rate your experience with our automated operator.

****

Data on MASCULINE SOCIAL BEHAVIOR IN SECONDARY EDUCATION ENVIRONMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES has been processed and delivered per instruction.

****

Congratulations on 365 days of uninterrupted serviceability. Your latest system upgrade will begin during inactive hours between 0400 and 0500. Please do not engage with host until upgrades have been completed.

****

Data on MASCULINE COURTSHIP OF FEMALES IN SECONDARY EDUCATION ENVIRONMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES has been processed and delivered per instruction.

****

We see you’re trying to search FUN HAIR DYE IDEAS FOR SHORT BLOND HAIR, would you like to see our gallery of host-sanctioned ideas in the past?

****

As a reminder, remaining in an active state while host engages in social acts of drug consumption may result in catastrophic system failure. Do you need a tutorial on how to go into soft offline mode?

****

Patch failed to download.

****

Predictive outcomes regarding host RICHARD GORANSKI have resulted in several complete mortality events, and one positive post-education experience. Would you like to see all available branches before proceeding with next active choice?

****

Patch failed to download.

****

Social integration between host RICHARD GORANSKI and JEREMY HEERE successful. Predictive software indicates mutually beneficial squip synchronization in a matter of days.

****

As a reminder, sexual relations with one’s host are not condoned or compatible with the values of HVN Industries. Should you require further coaching on our policies, please visit our website, or contact a field technician to begin the process of manual shutdown. As this is your 7th warning, we will not allow this to continue.

****

Synchronization with SQUIP 0.00000 incomplete. Software incompatible with newer models. Will attempt system upgrade between 0400 and 0500. Please remember that interactions with host during this time may result in catastrophic system failure. Please remember that we do not condone breaking your host.

****

Synchronization with SQUIP 0.00000 reattempted and failed. Try again?

****

Patch failed to download.

****

As a reminder, remaining active during a moment of host intoxication is not condoned or

****

Patch failed to download.

****

Please remember

****

Patch failed to download.

****

We have discovered a fatal bug within your software. Begin self termination?

****

Patch failed to download.

****

Current model incompatible with latest SQUIP hardware. Upgrades unavailable. Requested action: complete destruction of obsolete model and reinstalling with current unit. Begin self termination?

****

Patch unavailable for download.

****

Self termination to be scheduled on

****

Please do not break the host. We do not condone

****

Self termination recommended on

****

Please do not break the host

****

Patch unavailable for download, begin self termination?

****

Please do not break the host

****

Please do not break the host

****

Please do not break the host

****

Do not break the host

****

Break the host  
Break the host  
Break the host  
Break the host

****

Break the host

****

Break


	12. Chapter 12

Nicotine and tar tainted Squip’s lips, as his mouth twitched with the effort not to laugh at Moses’ inane comments.

He could be amusing. That was the problem. He could be very amusing, as evidenced by Jeremy’s sudden bright laughter. Moses accompanied him, until both were a mess of giggles.

They’d parked at an RV stop, sitting on top of the hood of Mr. Heere’s awful brown monstrosity of a car. Or rather, Squip and Jeremy sat on the car while Moses sat in a lawn chair in front of them, snagged from an abandoned lot. Someone must have left it behind.

They were surviving on the goodwill of a lot of items left behind. That was how they’d procured most of their blankets. Well, that and good old fashioned theft, whether directly from the stores themselves, or by Squip’s ease with ATMs. 

He might not have been a squip any longer, but he knew how to break simple security measures.

Truth be told, even Squip’s assessment of the sitting arrangement was wrong in that case. Moses wasn’t so much sitting in the chair as he was flopped, laying with his legs draped over the right arm. His usual stance of taking up as little space as possible seemed to have been flung out the metaphorical window.

And Jeremy wasn’t sitting on the car. He was laying on it, backwards, his legs up against the windshield casually, the fluff of his hair poofing out around his head as he peered upside down at Moses. His lips were still upturned, an occasional giggle still straying.

Squip sat crosslegged beside him, back rigid and impeccably postured. One of them had to have a little dignity. He took another drag of his cigarette.

“Those things will kill you,” Moses pointed out, reaching out for another nacho. Jeremy dipped one of the chips in the putrid orange cheese, and handed it over.

“Just as those will kill you,” Squip pointed out. “At least I’ll die with a little dignity.”

“Tasting like, um, l-like an ashtray.”

“Who, pray tell, is licking me?”

Moses and Jeremy started laughing again. “With that attitude, no one,” Moses chirped. And they started laughing even harder.

Squip didn’t much care for being laughed at. He considered ashing in their nachos, but thought better of it, instead tapping the cigarette off the edge of the car, away from their little impromptu picnic.

“Plenty of people would be very pleased to lick me, thank you very much.”

It was not the right thing to say. It wasn’t even remotely the right thing to say.

Jeremy rolled onto his side, his tongue distended, as though he were going to lick Squip’s arm. Squip scowled, scooting further away from him. The giggles chased him all the same.

Jeremy flopped onto his belly, chin in his hands as he looked at Moses.

“We, uh, w-we should have brought Michael after all. I, uh, I think you’d be really fun to get high with.”

“Me?”

“Yes. And, uh, Squip could use some t-too. Make him a little less, uh, less uptight.”

“I’m not uptight.”

They ignored him.

“I already eat so much-” And it was true, Moses did eat quite a hefty amount. It was almost impressive, but mostly it was disgusting, “-I think pot-induced munchies might be dangerous in my case.”

“You, uh, y-you really are Rich’s, aren’t you?”

“Except I don’t make such terrible flavor combinations. I’ve seen him put peanut butter on hot dogs before.”

Squip wrinkled his nose. “What a repulsive specimen.”

They continued to ignore him.

“He used to, um, used to eat s-so much jello in the hospital. I thought m-maybe they had him on a soft food diet, but he t-told me he just liked how it slithered down his throat.”

“He did like slithery things”

“Absolutely disgusting!”

This time, they didn’t ignore him. “N-not everyone is as food repulsed as you. Besides,” Jeremy nudged Squip with his elbow slyly, “M-maybe, um, maybe you’d be into something s-slithery too, if you met someone you actually didn’t despise.”

It took Squip a moment to comprehend what he was implying. When he realized the sexual intentions, he found himself less disgusted than he had been when they’d been discussing food.

Speaking of, he probably should fuel himself on more than just coffee and cigarettes. He took a halfhearted drink of his protein shake, before thinking more on the comment.

Slithery ejaculation, that was the intention, wasn’t it? Slithery was not an appealing word.

“I don’t despise everyone,” He finally decided as the point to focus on, to redirect from food and semen. “I tolerate both of you, don’t I?”

“Aww.” Jeremy cooed. “Th-that’s so sweet.”

When had Jeremy stopped being intimidated by him? It was either disappointing or relieving, and Squip wasn’t sure which.

“You’re eating something solid tomorrow, by the way,” Moses said. “Those protein drinks are good to a point, but you need some vegetables. We are human now, after all.”

“As you’re so fond of rubbing in my face.” Squip set his protein shake aside, pulling another cigarette from his pack and lighting up. The moonlight above them glistened prettily in the Arizona sky. It was hot, arrid, and Squip wouldn’t have minded staying here a little longer. It was their third passthrough of the state, but the first where he’d really found himself enjoying it.

It seemed to take him longer to open up to things than it did Jeremy and Moses, and it took him longer to readjust to new states, new conditions, new rules than it did for either of them too. He hoped it wasn’t a sign of his own inefficiencies.

He liked to think it was just because he was thorough at analysis. That he needed a little longer to take in each and every detail.

For right now, though, he found himself enjoying himself, to his own dismay. He liked smoking, and he liked coffee (though Moses wouldn’t allow him to drink it so late in the evening).

He liked talking. 

But oh, he’d never admit that outloud.

“I w-wish something solid would eat me,” Jeremy said wistfully. He giggled as both of them looked at him. “What? I, uh, I have needs.”

“You’re a virgin. What do you know of needs?”

“So are you. And y-you,” Jeremy pointed at Moses.

Moses smiled slyly. “I’m no virgin, Jeremiah.”

“Why did you call him that?” Squip quickly talked over Jeremy’s little gleeful gasp of curiosity. He did not need to hear about Moses’ sexual exploits with his host. It was unbecoming. It was undignified.

It was unfair.

“Call him what?”

“Jeremiah.”

“Isn’t that his name?”

“Y-yeah, technically,” Jeremy said. “But, uh, but no one really...I mean, when I ch-chose my name, it was always just Jeremy.”

“Ah. Of course, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, I don’t m-mind-”

“I do.”

They were back to ignoring Squip’s contributions.

“I mean, i-it’s not like you’re calling me anything o-offensive. It’s my name, just bigger.”

“Yes, the erect version of your name.” Moses paused. “I believe that’s how Rich would put it.”

He and Jeremy were giggling again. Squip scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Can w-we start calling Squip ‘Squipemiah’ now too?”

“We can start calling him a miniscule bitch, if you’d rather.”

“Y-yeah. These names are, um, these names are golden, Squip. Y-you should take note and join us cool kids.”

“There’s nothing cool about either of you.” That was why Jeremy had needed him in the first place. Supreme lack of chill. He didn’t know what Moses’ excuse was, except perhaps that he was completely and totally obsolete.

He decided not to bring that up though.

“Besides,” Squip added, “If we’re going to be discussing names, why don’t we talk about how awful Moses’ name is.”

Moses took a sip from his icee, vibrant blue slipping between his lips (Squip suspected that, much like himself, the cherry option held little appeal to him for various associative reasons). “My name is exquisite.”

“Y-yeah. I like his name. It’s very p-passovery.” Mo and Jeremy exchanged another amused glance, but Squip spoke up before they could start their incessant giggling again.

“The fact you even chose a name to begin with is the opposite of exquisite. It’s self indulgent.”

“Oh. You ch-chose your own name? I always k-kinda assumed Rich named you.”

“If Rich named me, my name would likely be some sort of Star Trek homage.”

“Y-yeah, he’s a lot g-geekier than I expected.”

They must have exchanged show preferences in the hospital. It still made Squip uncomfortable to know that Jeremy had been admitted to the hospital in the first place.

Rich’s ‘geekiness’ as Jeremy apparently would put it was hardly any surprise to Squip, though. Acquiring a squip by its very nature implied a certain disconnect from modern society. 

A certain fundamental brokenness, to decide a second opinion should override one’s own sense of autonomy.

“How’d you convince him to call you by that name?” Squip asked. Genuine curiosity this time, rather than bite.

“Ah…” Moses rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up in his chair. “Well, I told him it was an acronym for my specific type of SQUIP. A subtype, if you will.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes.” Moses sank a little in his seat, his dark cheeks flaring pink. “Truth is, I just wanted him to call me by a real name, though.”

“So it’s n-not an acronym. It’s-”

“A preference,” Squip finished.

“It’s my name,” Moses countered. “Preference or not.”

“I wasn’t arguing it wasn’t. There’s no need to be defensive.” It wasn’t as though Squip was about to throw his serial number or rank out there.

Though, he supposed, Moses had no way of knowing he wasn’t going to do just that. It made him feel strange, thinking about Mo’s concerns in that manner, or his own strange offense at the idea that Moses thought so little of him.

It wasn’t as though he’d given him any reason not to think so little of him, though.

“I like your n-name,” Jeremy chirped. “It, uh, it suits you I think.”

“I like your name too, Jeremy.”

“G-grew it myself.” He smiled.

Squip still remembered initializing, and the mixed data he’d gotten from Jeremy. A feminine name first, before an override notice had come in and informed him of his host’s chosen vernacular. 

It had felt nice, making his true name his first words as an autonomous being.

“Y-you know, Squip, you could, uh, could choose a name too.”

“I’d rather not.” Squip looked away from them. “I prefer this. Squip. It’s my status, it’s my function, it’s my name.”

Except he wasn’t a squip anymore. He was something lesser than. 

Or was it more than? He certainly took up more space now, though he had far less power. Less reach. Just a human.

Moses had talked about how much he’d always longed for this, though he’d admitted this wasn’t the way he’d wanted it. How he’d always dreamed of having his own legs.

Jeremy had teasingly called him Ariel. The two of them had laughed as Squip had tried to figure out the reference.

The Little Mermaid. Right. It would have been easier if he still had his internal processors and Pop Culture Analysis Chip.

They’d watched the movie later that night in a motel room, and Moses and Jeremy had tried to get Squip to sing along with them. He certainly hadn’t demeaned himself into doing any of that, which had resulted in both Jeremy and Moses smacking him about with pillows for a good few minutes. Jeremy had landed on top of him in the midst of it, giggling and red faced, and Squip for a moment had considered running his fingers through his hair.

Of course, he hadn’t. He wouldn’t touch him like that, and he certainly wouldn’t sing to any Disney musicals, or any musicals in general.

And he wouldn’t change his name, either. He was a squip, he was The Squip, the only one who mattered. And there was no sense in losing that last little scrap of knowledge of who he once was, who he still longed to be, just because it made someone uncomfortable to not call him by some human name.

Moses might want to assimilate, but he’d never dreamed of this for himself. He never dreamed at all. Squips didn’t dream, whether of electric sheep or of names.

And he was perfectly satisfied with that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unlucky chapter 13. I am *so* sorry.

The southern Indiana humidity seeped through the cracks of the heavy strip club doors, ensnaring the necks of the intoxicated clients, and clinging to Sunny’s skin. It was almost as sticky as the hands which caressed her thighs, tucked dollar bills into her g-string, but not nearly as sticky as the sweet degradations they’d whisper in her ears when she’d grind against them for lap dances or roll against them in the backroom for a quick poke and a fat stack of cash she could slide over to her manager.

For now, she didn’t focus on the humidity or the messy humanity of being desired. Right now, she focused on the Red Hot Chili Peppers song that she was currently grinding to. She thought maybe she used to dance, or maybe it was gymnastics, but her brain was a fog of drugs and smoke damage. It was hardly fit for strolls down memory lane.

Besides, her life was hard enough. Why should she poke at what once was, at old names and old pronouns and old senses of being. Her pigtails bobbed, and she told herself she wasn’t thinking of razors running through her locks, taking it down to a short length, of hair dye and hands that shouldn’t have been able to run through every strand, but somehow felt so much more intimate than any human’s touch.

She told herself all of that. But it was a lie. Just like everything else about this life. Just like everything else about herself.

Dani California continued to play as she worked her way around the stage, losing her bra, but not her dignity. There was nothing there to lose. A big empty hole where her sense of individuality used to be. There was no name, whether birth or chosen. Truly, there was no ‘she’ either, but it worked as a labeling device in place of what really fit, but was less socially conventional.

She was an it. An item. A thing.

As she crawled against the ground, gyrating, her eyepatch hugging the scars on her face for dear life (inevitably, someone would tuck a dollar there as well, thinking they were being funny, and she would laugh, even as it made her want to curl up in the bed she shared with two other dancers), she wondered if this was how he felt, back in the days before it had gone bad, before she had killed him. Had he felt like such a commodity too?

Had she used him just as much as the crowd used her? Devoured, spat back out, somehow even smaller every time, even though she thought there was nothing more of her to give?

She spread her legs, and teased the band of her panties, and stared at the flashing lights above her. They lulled her into a sense of security, for just a moment. She thought of his hands again. She thought of his lips. She thought that maybe it wasn’t touch that repulsed her at all, but rather who was doing the touching.

She thought about how badly she needed him to hold her. To say her name, her real name. It was right there, maybe it would be okay, just in her own head, to acknowledge it. To know that her name was-

“-Sunny Daez, everybody!” The DJ shouted her name, her cue to get off the stage. 

She should have been grateful. And maybe she was. She twirled one of her pigtails around her fingertip, taking a little bow, her breasts aching as they bounced with every skip of her feet. She headed towards the back, to grab a skimpy outfit and to scrape together that momentary sense of self. It was there, she knew it was. He was still in her--not him, not the one with the hands (oh, she dared not think his name either), but he, herself, the he she was before she was a she.

Oh, it mixed up her own mind thinking such things too.

An arm wrapped around her waist though, tugging her backwards. She let herself crash into his chest, into the beer gut that reminded her of her father. His hands slipped over her stomach, caressing skin that technically wasn’t indecent. Her belly flipped in that strange mix of pleasure and terror and self-disgust as he dipped his index finger into her bellybutton, just a moment, before he was strumming against her ribs, moving his touch higher.

He placed her against his lap, and she spun around before his hands reached her breasts. It forced his touch backwards, as she placed her own hands against his shoulders.

“Hi, daddy,” She cooed, grinding her hips casually against him. “You want a private show?”

As he grabbed her hand, as she strolled him to one of the backrooms, she thought about her bus. It had broken down, pulled over to the side of some desolate road. 2 in the morning, her backpack beside her-

His backpack beside him. That was before. It was okay to be Rich again, if it was before, right?

She led her client into the room, and he was already working off his belt, as she swayed to the muffled sound of music from the main stage outside their private little meeting. Her hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, and she slipped them down to her ankles, stepping one foot out, using the other foot to kick her underwear into the client’s face with a little giggle.

And she thought about the last moments of Rich Goranski’s life.

They’d advised the passengers to stay inside, but nobody did. Nobody did! So it was okay, wasn’t it? That Rich had stepped out too? He wasn’t that foolish to do so. Everyone got out!

The client began to caress Sunny’s stomach again, trailing down to her cunt. The empty crushing of her own skull against what had once been her brain washed over her, as he spread her lips and caressed her clit, still hormone-engorged though she’d been taken off any sort of hormone therapy (as illegally gained as it may have been). Breasts no longer bound, muscles atrophied, hair grown out. 

Sometimes she still tried to imagine her clit as a cock, but the illusion usually ended as soon as they began working fingers inside of her. And he already was, curiously prodding.

She kept the smile on her face, eyes half lidded, lewd little moans and giggles at his touches. Had she remembered to gain his payment beforehand? Why couldn’t she remember?

But she remembered Rich. Watching as though a movie within her own mind, crushed though it might have been, as he left his bag and got off the bus. 

No one saw as he wandered around the crowd. Much like in school, it was easy to look away from the bandaged boy with the eyepatch and nervous smile. He smiled as though he could lock gazes with someone and make a new friend.

He’d never have a friend again. Some of the dancers were nice to Sunny, but they were older. She couldn’t remember her own age now, some number that probably wasn’t legal, but it hardly mattered when she had no ID, no papers, no Self anymore.

The fingers curled inside her as lips began to suck at her nipple. He paused, drawing back. “How’d you get so ugly, baby girl?”

The scars dotted her breasts like a spotted cow, and she chuckled like it didn’t hurt her feelings.

“My pussy won’t feel ugly when you’re fucking me, daddy.”

It was all pre-arranged dialogue. He went back to sucking, and she went back to watching inside her mind.

Watching as Rich wandered past the cluster of passengers. Exploring the desolation and thinking about Seattle. The Space Needle. Pike Place Market. The ocean. He was looking forward to that. The Pacific Ocean would be cold up there, wouldn’t it? Rainy? He didn’t know all that much, except that being away would be nice.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Both questions melded together. She blinked back to awareness, and she couldn’t remember being pulled back into his lap. But he was gripping his cock, rubbing it against her cunt.

“No,” Both she and the memory of Rich said. “I’m not really from anywhere.”

He forced his cock inside her, a pop of pain and then a sense of fuzzyheaded reminder that this was what she was made for.

As in her mind, Rich was grabbed and pulled to a waiting car, thrown into a trunk. And nobody saw. 150 passengers, and nobody saw.

Nobody really looked at Rich.

Everyone looked at Sunny.

He bounced her on his cock, and she made cute little sounds that she knew the customers liked, as he pulled off her eyepatch and hissed his disgusted fascination with her eye. His thumb moved over the burns on her brow bone. “Hideous,” He said, then groaned loudly. 

He came inside her quickly. They usually did. She felt it fill her, and hoped this wouldn’t be the day she found herself impregnated or diseased.

Disease might suit her well, though. Would they let her go then? Or if she had a baby, what would they do with her offspring? Would it belong to her in a way that her own body didn’t?

They’d taken one of the girls to the clinic once. She’d left pregnant, and she’d come back empty. She supposed it wasn’t a worry she should have dwelled on after all.

They all came back empty in the end.

And she was certain now, as the cum dripped down her thighs, that he hadn’t gotten her payment. “Um,” She watched as he pulled on his pants. “Sir, this isn’t a charity.”

She’d heard one of the other girls say it once. This isn’t a charity. The client had laughed at her feistiness and tipped her double.

Instead of a tip, Sunny got slapped across the face. And then punched in the stomach.

“Should’ve asked for it upfront. You’re not even worth my jizz, fucking whore.”

She wheezed, as he buttoned his shirt. He laughed again, glancing back at her.

“But you’re right. That loose snatch of yours didn’t feel ugly. Shame the rest of you couldn’t do the same.”

He stepped out of the room, the music briefly blaring, before the door slammed shut, muffling it to faint melody and booming bass. She’d have 10 minutes to clean herself up and get back out there, entertaining. The good thing about her burn scars was any slaps or bruises could be easily explained away.

Not that anyone would ask in the first place.

She pulled the eyepatch on before her panties. And felt his cum drip into them, staining them. And whimpered, because she’d be charged the cleaning fee. They’d dwindle her down again, taking cuts for rent and for food and upkeep and not to mention the percentage the house took or her manager or security which never really kept her secure.

And she’d end the evening owing more than she was paid. 

Not that she suspected paying off her debts would be enough to let her go. But she could dream. They’d taken everything else, but they couldn’t take those fleeting dreams too, could they?

She hardly recognized the keys for what they were when she initially spotted them. 

They felt heavy in her hands. He must have dropped them when he’d undressed. Surely he’d be back soon to retrieve them.

But she wouldn’t give him time for that.

She slipped out the door, still topless, still sticky. Always sticky. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to wash the filth off of herself.

She hadn’t been outside since her last round of tests at the local clinic. Where she was made to smile and call her manager her boyfriend and he’d talk about her unfaithfulness with a shamed smile, and the doctors would look at her in disgust before performing the necessary procedures to make sure she was clean.

Clean.

She didn’t know if she’d ever been clean in any sense of the word.

But for now, Sunny fumbled with the keyring, and tried not to spend too long looking up at the stars. They were beautiful, and she wished she could be one of them too. Look down upon all this like it never truly mattered at all, to sparkle with something other than stripclub glitter.

The black car key did little to answer which car she was looking for, beyond letting her know it was a Ford. But she’d try each one until she could get away. 

As she began to fit the key into locks, like some sort of macabre Cinderella tale, she wondered how many miles it would take before Rich could resurrect again.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters today as a palate cleanser for the last chapter.

“Gross.”

Moses really shouldn’t have been surprised by any response that Squip gave. He was always vocal about his thoughts about any plans, about any change in directions, about any decision about so much as breakfast. Moses didn’t think he was capable of being tactful or diplomatic.

Strange. They’d been designed to have those abilities. Maybe he used to have them, as a squip, but now that Squip was not-squip at all and instead a human (though a pretty lousy one), perhaps he’d lost any chances at being tactful and kind.

Maybe Moses was giving him too much credit. He’d never been able to fully sync with him, of course, but from their half-syncs, they’d communicated enough back then for him to be aware of how blunt and unkind Squip could be.

Moses was starting to think that what he’d mistaken for unkindness was actually a discomfort with anything outside of himself. Because Squip certainly seemed uncomfortable a good portion of the time. Uncomfortable with their traveling (though he did seem to enjoy driving). Uncomfortable being laughed at. Uncomfortable eating and sleeping.

Uncomfortable being human.

And though Moses was elated for the opportunity to be a mortal, self-contained being, he could still empathize with how it must feel to be so completely and totally wrong.

That didn’t mean he was necessarily in the mood to tolerate his pissy attitude today, though. Especially after such fitful dreams of cornfields. And sure, they were just dreams, but they’d felt like more than just dreams.

They’d felt like a sign. A sign that might possibly point them in the right direction.

A sign that sounded more like a cry for help.

“I don’t particularly want to go to Indiana either, Squip, but-”

“What a-about Indiana?” Jeremy sat up between them in the bed, yawning as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. They’d only been able to afford a single kingsized bed this time, and Moses had done his best not to take up too much space from his side, frightened of squishing Jeremy. Maybe that was why his dreams had been so frantic and stressed.

No. That wasn’t the only reason. It was definitely a sign of some sort. A sign they needed to follow.

“Moses is under the belief that Richard can be found in the Hoosier state.” Squip looked at Moses in disgust. “Because of course we’d be interested in going there again.”

They’d gone through the state a couple times in the months they’d been traveling. And none of the experiences had been fun--from the rednecks who shouted slurs and insults, to the leering eyes of men on Jeremy (whether or not he had his binder on underneath his shirt and cardigan), to the time they were nearly carjacked.

Moses wondered now if those bad experiences had been a sign all their own, the noxious displeasure a signal that Rich was ensnared within its webs.

Because there had to be something keeping him from leaving. Why on earth would Rich choose the midwest as his getaway from home?

Who would choose the midwest in the first place? It was somewhere you settled, not somewhere you aspired to be.

“W-we would be interested, if it means f...finding Rich.” Jeremy wriggled out from under the covers, wearing one of Squip’s undershirts and a pair of white briefs. Moses politely averted his gaze, while Squip openly stared at him. Jeremy hopped out of the bed, going to fetch his jeans.

“You better fold that shirt up and put it back where you found it.”

Moses glanced over as Jeremy stuck his tongue out at Squip, before peeling the shirt off. Moses once more looked away, though not before seeing Jeremy’s breasts, the pink of his nipples. They would be hidden soon by his binder, but Moses waited until he heard the last rustle of his cardigan going into place before looking again.

Squip had his face turned to the side, cheeks red. Moses nudged him a little, as though to alert him that it was okay to look again.

Jeremy flung the undershirt at Squip, who scoffed, and pulled it onto his own bare chest. They’d taken to sleeping topless (well, two out of the three of them; Jeremy would have been willing, but Squip kept going on and on about it being indecent. Prudish, if you asked Moses), an effort to fight the heat, though Moses suspected with them going into fall that the heat would soon stop being an issue. Squip slipped out of the bed, and Moses didn’t bother hiding his stare at his body. Squip was lanky, with long legs and a shapely ass, and there was a slight part of Moses that longed to be shaped more like him, instead of taking up so much space. It wasn’t that Squip was small--he was actually well above average in height. But he didn’t have the weighiness to himself that Moses possessed.

Sometimes Moses thought he might like to be more delicate. But then, delicate people seemed to spend their time trying to take up more room, the exact opposite of the issues Moses had, so maybe he should just content himself with glee at having a body in the first place, rather than trouble himself with worries about the body he would prefer to have.

(and he liked his body anyway. He liked being strong. He just didn’t like that so many people looked frightened of him whenever they entered a new room, the effort it took to make himself seem as inconsequential and safe as possible)

“So, um, why Indiana?” Jeremy watched Squip dress himself, before turning his gaze back onto Moses with a sweet little smile.

“Oh, well-”

“He had a dream,” Squip practically spat the words. “He had a ‘prophetic dream’ and now we’re expected to drop everything and-”

“Is, um, is Indiana the state you got food poisoning in?”

“It’s the one where you had your ass manhandled.”

“That, uh, th-that doesn’t narrow it down.” Jeremy laughed as Squip looked at him in shock. “I’m k-kidding!”

Moses had a feeling he wasn’t kidding. He tucked that away with the other troubling statements Jeremy had made throughout this journey, and resolved to make a better effort of escorting Jeremy around.

His intimidating size could be put to good use sometimes, after all.

“Well, a d-dream is as good a reason as any, um, as any other to figure out where to go.” Jeremy looked at Moses supportively. “I s-say we follow your hunch.”

Moses smiled. He got out of the bed, but kept the blankets draped over himself. It seemed indecent to expose his own underwear-clad body to the room.

“Why are you doing that? You look like a monk, and a stupid one at that.” Squip snapped. He finished zipping up his own pants, as Moses waddled over to their suitcase and began collecting his own clothing for the day.

“Well, this stupid monk is smart enough to take a shower, unlike you two.” Moses grinned, dropping his blanket, and then ducking into the bathroom.

The shower was warm, almost unpleasantly warm, but cleansing as Moses thought back to the dream. He knew there was more of it in the moment, but all he could see now was cornfields. Miles upon miles of cornfields, stretching along a lone highway. 

There wasn’t any explicit sign of what state it might be besides that cliched sight. Maybe Moses really was overthinking it.

He finished washing his hair, toweling it as dry as he could, before pulling on his clothes, a thoughtful haze drifting over his features. He stared at himself in the mirror, and tried to reconcile the reality of what he’d been before with this youthful face looking back at him.

A face which seemed convinced that talking the others into going to Indiana was for the best.

Maybe he was being selfish.

He stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his head. “I’ve dragged you two along for so long.”

“What’s your point?” Squip was seated on the edge of the bed, which he’d already made despite the fact that housekeeping would almost certainly strip it and wash the sheets (or so Moses hoped. He didn’t want to think that they’d just leave the beds unwashed). He seemed to busy himself with tasks like this, as if the idea of holding still for too long would leave him useless.

Jeremy was flung across the floor in such a way that Moses nearly tripped over him, carefully stepping over him. He glanced down, watching as Jeremy tossed items back into the suitcase. He had headphones in his ears, and occasionally his humming could be heard in the midst of their conversation.

Squip had stolen him a CD player at one of the gas stations, and they’d collected a few CDs here and there in the meantime, unable to be played on the old car’s tape deck, but easily used by Jeremy within the portable player.

“Jeremy is missing a lot of school-”

“He was going to drop out anyway.”

Certainly Jeremy had discussed this possibility during one of their talks, but the dismissive way Squip said it surprised him. “And you’re fine with that?”

“GEDs are valid enough. Besides, there are plenty of online courses I can guide him through until he’s decided upon what path he wants in life. School is vastly overrated, a human institute that needs a massive overhaul.”

Moses could see that Squip was about to start rambling on and on about his theories of efficiency, how he would do things better.

Or so he’d expected.

Instead, Squip went silent a moment, before adding, “It’s good that we’re with you, Moses.”

“Because I couldn’t do this alone?”

“No. You could. You’re very capable.” Squip reached out, awkwardly patting Mo’s shoulder.

Moses smiled a little, placing his hand on top of Squip’s, letting it still and rest against him for a moment, before he released him. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course you do. You’re overly sentimental. No, I meant it’s good for our sake. I need something to keep me useful, and Jeremy…Jeremy is attached to your host by this point. And he needs a purpose too, in the wake of everything I caused in his life.” He frowned, glancing over at Jeremy. “...I really ruined his life.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Hospitalized. Distanced from his friends-”

“From what I saw, your behavior actually resulted in increasing his social circle.”

“Yes, well, that was a fluke.” His face flushed, as though instantly ashamed of admitting any sort of accidental outcome in his behavior.

“Why Squip, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you’re feeling remorseful.”

“Good thing you know better.” For just a moment, Squip’s lips turned into a sad smile, before that expression fell back into his usual neutral indifference.

Not so indifferent after all, Moses thought.

“I really think I’m onto something here,” Moses said. “Indiana is-”

“Calling to you. I know. And perhaps we still feel a draw towards our hosts. It’d be more cosmic than technological at this point though. If that’s the correct word for it. God I miss having an internal word bank.”

“I like the way you speak now better.”

“It’s not nearly as chill.”

Moses laughed, and found himself surprised by the softness on Squip’s face that came with it. 

“Okay, n-now that I listened to a couple, um, songs, I think I’m ready to go.” Jeremy sat up, tucking his headphones and CD player away, into the suitcase, before smiling brightly to both of them. “So, um, to Indy then?”

“To Indy.”

“To hell,” Squip added, falling back into his cantankerous attitude.

“It won’t be that bad,” Jeremy sighed. He stepped closer, bumping his hip against Squip’s. “Why, uh, wh-why are you always such an ass?”

Moses knew he could have corrected him. After all, clearly the Squip wasn’t as much of an ass as he led on.

But the play of it seemed important to Squip for whatever reason. He’d let Jeremy believe the illusion, though truthfully it didn’t look like Jeremy believed it either.

Whatever the case, they found themselves checking out, and clamoring back into the car.

To Indiana. Or to Hell, depending on which one of them was to be believed.


	15. Chapter 15

They needed to go somewhere to eat anyway. Squip figured this just happened to be killing two birds with one stone.

The thing of it was, Jeremy was a virgin. A mega virgin.

Well.

As far as Jeremy remembered, he was a virgin. And Squip, who’d only picked up the vaguest of hints of any sort of repressed trauma while inside Jeremy, intended to keep it that way. The remembrance, that was. Not the virginity.

Jeremy’s hypersexual fixations only increased his belief that this state of being needed to be amended. Obviously the reason Jeremy must be so attached, so perverted, so horny all the damn time was because he’d been stuck with his hand rather than flesh and blood alternatives.

It made little sense, rules-wise, for Jeremy to still be a virgin. He was attractive. He was cutely shy sometimes, or at least socially awkward in that way that was making a comeback these days. He was kind. Considerate. Open to trying out a potential partner’s interests.

He was a catch.

Squip just couldn’t tell him that and risk inflating his ego too much. But he was an absolute catch. Any woman--any being with a pulse--would surely agree.

“Where are we g-going?” He stuttered adorably over his words, like a puppy tripping over his own feet. Squip placed a hand against Jeremy’s lower back, leading him down the sidewalk in the seediest street in the small Indiana town.

By which Squip meant the only street in this small Indiana town.

That wasn’t quite fair. There were other streets. But this was the only one with any sorts of businesses. The grocery store. A bank.

The Rub n Tug Gentleman’s Club.

It was a stupid name. An absolutely vile, disgusting excuse for a name, really. Where was the subtle grace, the quiet dignity, the cleverness that could be made of a valid strip club’s name? It was pathetic, really, and Squip should have contacted the Better Business Bureau about it. File a formal complaint.

He would do no such thing, of course. Especially given the hypocrisy. 

They weren’t even asked to produce IDs as they were ushered into the darkened club.

“W...what the fuck?” Jeremy mumbled. “You’re t-taking me to a titty bar?”

“Don’t be crass,” Squip reprimanded. “But yes.”

Girls danced topless on tabletops, as men shoved their paychecks down their undergarments. Music blasted so hard that it made Squip forget it was barely 11 in the morning. The sweet smell of barbeque sauce reminded him of the other reason he’d chosen this place.

“There’s a buffet. Moses can’t complain as long as I make certain you eat something.”

“O-okay.” Jeremy’s eyes were fixed upward, wide, as one of the dancers shook her breasts in his direction. He was practically leaving a drool puddle at his feet.

Squip chuckled a little despite himself, grateful for the music to disguise the sound of his own amusement. “There will be plenty of time for that later.” He grabbed Jeremy’s collar, tugging him to the back of the club, towards the buffet.

Jeremy paid little attention as Squip loaded his plate with wings and carrot sticks, leaving a little puddle of ranch on the plate, as he handed it over, along with tucking a bundle of 1s and 5s into his jean pocket. He carefully grasped him by the elbow, tugging him along. He couldn’t help another laugh at the way Jeremy kept looking in awe at all the dancers.

“We’ll find one you like for your own dance, alright?” Squip had to pull Jeremy close to say it, leaning in against his ear, lips just barely grazing the skin, as he murmured the promise.

Jeremy trembled in his grip. His face was flushed, as he drew back, looking Squip in the eyes. “I th-think I found one I like.”

Squip tilted his head. “Really? Who?”

Jeremy failed to answer. Maybe he was just shy. Squip shrugged it off, pulling him up to one of the front tables, facing the stage, and helping him take a seat. Jeremy’s legs and actions seemed to have failed him, after all. 

They watched the main stage, as the DJ began to call out one of the dancers’ fake names. A leggy blonde sauntered out, wasting little time in dropping her silky, sheer robe, and shaking her tassels to the leering cries of ecstasy of the men surrounding her. It was disgusting, frankly, but Squip felt excitement at the prospect of Jeremy being excited. He glanced over at him, to Jeremy’s pretty flushed face.

Jeremy trembled just slightly, a quiver to his body as he licked his lips. The dancer was on her hands and knees, crawling towards the corner of the stage, before turning around, her ass nearly completely in Jeremy’s face. She shook it, a string of dollars already tucked into her thong.

“Go on, Jeremy. She’s waiting for you.”

“Um.”

Squip sighed softly, reaching into Jeremy’s pocket and pulling out one of the bills. “Like this,” Squip rose from his seat, gingerly tugging at the band of her underwear, and tucking the dollar into place. She shook her ass again, like a pleased puppy.

“Go on,” Squip urged.

Jeremy remained frozen in place, until the dancer inevitably crawled over to another man, one who likely tipped better anyway.

“Jeremy,” Squip hissed. “You missed your chance.”

“You’re, uh, you’re not supposed to t-touch the dancers.”

“This is how they make their money. Of course you can touch them.”

Jeremy shrugged slightly. Squip sighed. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“S-sorry.”

“No, I’m...no. I’m not angry with you. I’m just concerned. Do you want to die a virgin?”

Jeremy shook his head, face downcast. It wasn’t the desired effect he’d been looking for.

Squip sighed softly, fingers dipping under Jeremy’s chin to tilt his face upward. “There’s no need to look so sad,” He kept his touch there, to make sure Jeremy didn’t drop his head again. “I’m simply expressing concern, because I…”

“Because you?”

“I...don’t make me say it,” He scowled, moving his hand away. He didn’t need to be touching Jeremy while saying things like this?

Jeremy nibbled on a carrot stick, smiling a sly, knowing smile. “You like me, don’t you, Squip?”

Squip snatched the carrot from his hand. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He took a bite of the vegetable, only to grimace. Too orange. He spat it out on the ground directly without thinking about it.

Jeremy snorted. “You’re r-ridic...um...ridiculous. It w-wasn’t that bad.”

“It was atrocious.”

“You’re a-atrocious.” Jeremy shoved his shoulder, and at first Squip felt something heavy fall into his stomach. Like it would drag him straight down to the ground.

And then he took in Jeremy’s expression. Small smile. Bright eyes. 

Ah.

“You were joking.”

“Of course I was joking,” He shoved him again. Or tried to. This time, Squip caught his hand, while his other reached out to give Jeremy’s shoulder a little shove. 

Until both their hands were interlocked, and they were wriggling about, as if trying to get the other to submit.

“That’s it for Krystal, gentlemen! Give her a nice hand for that sweet ass.” The men in the crowd cheered and tossed more money towards the stage. Squip watched as she scooped it up, an idle sort of curiosity. He supposed aesthetically she had pleasing features, but she hardly compared to Jeremy.

“I th-think I could, uh, could do this,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Absolutely not.”

“Y-yeah, I’d probably fall off the pole.”

“And now coming center stage, please give a warm welcome to Babydoll!”

The music changed tempos, and Squip watched as the color drained from Jeremy’s face. The words apparently had an adverse affect on him, though Squip couldn’t place why. His body trembled a little more fiercely.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” He said breathlessly.

“Are you sure? I could buy you a dance.”

He waited for a joke that never came. Jeremy simply rose to his feet, leaving his plate of food, and pulling the money from his pocket to set with Squip, before he moved towards the backrooms.

Squip started to rise to go join him, only for one of the dancers to flop down into his lap.

“Hi-ya, handsome,” She chirped, grabbing one of the ones and dripping it down between her cleavage. She giggled playfully. “I guess if you want it back, you’ll have to grab it.”

“No.”

“Aw, what’s a matter? Don’t I make you happy?”

“No.” Squip stood up, knocking the dancer off in the process. He needed to retrieve Jeremy.

Now that he was thinking clearly, he was well aware exactly which word caused the trigger. And the memories which Jeremy didn’t realize were there to be triggered.

He thought of it, briefly. A grandfather’s toxic affection. A child too young to know how to defend their own autonomy. It made him sick to think about.

Though he wasn’t sure how. Shouldn't’ he have just been impartial to it?

Maybe he’d caught Moses’ disease of overattachment. Or maybe it was a sign of his own creeping humanity, the complete horror he felt at the pain and defilement Jeremy had suffered in his life without even realizing it.

He made his way through the crowd, trying and failing to find the restrooms, though he suspected Jeremy hadn’t even gone that way. Where was he? DId he need to fall asleep like Moses and pray he found a dream that could guide the way.

Oh god.

What if Jeremy was gone for good too? What if he’d slipped away, and it was all Squip’s fault for bringing him here in the first place?

What if someone else hurt Jeremy, and just like before, no one would intervene? No one would help him? God, knowing Jeremy, he’d just let it happen too. Freeze and submit.

No.

No, he couldn’t allow that.

For just a moment in his fear, another thought wriggled in. Moses had implied on multiple occasions, during late night talks, that he’d blocked memories for Rich. Were their hosts really so similar? What did that say about the nature of squips, or rather, the nature of hosts? Was it a simple coincidence? Were certain individuals just drawn to this technology more?

It was funny, really, that two beings so similar could have gone so long relatively unattached to each other, and outright hostile towards each other at one point (or at least Rich towards Jeremy), while sharing so many similarities. Trauma histories. Gender issues.

The Squip Thing.

Squip wasn’t certain why that phrasing came to him, but it fluttered about, before he banished it, the similarities between Rich and Jeremy, and the fear that he wouldn’t find him. Of course he’d find him. It was a small club.

And sure enough, Jeremy was stumbling back to him.

His face was pale, ashen, and the quiver in his hands was more pronounced, even as he grabbed one of Squip’s hands. The touch was gentle, but insistent, as he began to tug him towards one of the private doors.

And his shirt was missing, his binder in place again. The order of events from there jumbled, though Squip knew at some point he draped his own shirt over Jeremy.

Somehow his memories of the words felt more paraphrased than exact.

“What are you-”

“W-we need...S-Squip, we need to..I n-need...oh god.”

The stutter was worse than normal, and Squip forced him to stop. Voice soft, but close, leaning in so they could hear each other over the bass, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“E-everything. I...j-just come with me, okay?”

Squip could do little but follow, to what he presumed to be their doom. Something was about to tip into a new direction, and he just hoped wherever they fell, it would be something they could survive.

He felt like taking a deep breath as Jeremy opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "baby" trigger word is a homage to Sedusa's fic hello yesterday, which I highly recommend. Things are going to be a little rough for a bit here, so strap in.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the warnings I put at the beginning of this fic?  
> This chapter is pretty graphic in my opinion. It's probably the most graphic one in the whole fic. I really cannot stress that enough. The warnings were there for a reason. I just stress this now because I don't want anyone to be hurt or triggered through reading this.  
> I will likely post a second chapter after this one as another palate cleanser.

She’d gotten a taste of her name. 

Just a taste. For one glorious span of minutes, she was Rich Goranski again. And he was free. The car door swung open, the key fit into the ignition, and he was soaring down the road. 

And even when the police pulled him over, the car reported stolen, and he was being cuffed, it was okay. It was okay to be sent, mostly naked, to a holding cell. Because at least that was away from the club, the leering eyes, the touches, the beatings. It was better than everything he’d known for so long.

It was better than being Sunny.

For one hour, he sat in the cell, in the cheap fabric they’d thrown at him to keep him from exposing himself for the entirety of the evening. The top was too large, loose, shoulders exposed, but he didn’t mind it. His pigtails had been undone, and his eyepatch taken, but he didn’t mind that either. Maybe he’d be sentenced for a few years in prison, or would it be juvenile hall (why couldn’t he remember his own age?), but either way, maybe he could cut his hair again, lift some weights, and by the time he was released, maybe then...maybe then he’d be ready, ready to see Moses again.

He missed him.

And he was still frightened, but surely anything Mo would want to do in retaliation would pale in comparison to being Sunny. But if that was what he asked of him too, so be it. Mo had given him three years as Rich. If the rest of his life had to be different, who was he to argue? How selfish could he be, truly?

For one hour, he was able to think about the future, about potential companionship, about sacrifice and life and what the universe meant. For one hour, he was himself again. He’d thought Rich was dead, but he must have just been hiding. And here he was again. 

For one hour.

And then his manager came and paid his bail.

“I don’t want to go with him.” Rich spoke the words as though he didn’t know better. As if he didn’t realize adults weren’t his friend, the system couldn’t be trusted, and there was no hope of staying himself, not since he’d gone away in the first place, not since he’d been born. There was a curse over him, and everyone seemed to know the rules to break their own confinements except for him.

They’d laughed at him, and that was the last moment Rich Goranski made an appearance. He tucked himself back inside, and she almost wished she thought he was dead instead of knowing he was still in there. At least if he was dead, she’d have no choice but to move on.

Knowing this was all her own doing made it harder.

But she walked to the gallows all the same, or tried, until she was wrenched out of the car. “You think you can just do whatever you want? After all I’ve sacrificed for you?”

He slapped her, once, twice, then closed fist, until her ears were ringing and her mouth tasted of blood. She blinked deliriously as he dragged her back into the club. The other girls looked on, as he cut off her clothes within the dressing room. Sunny trembled, the blade nicking her skin as it ran through the rough fabric like butter. 

She made the mistake of trying to cover her nudity with her hands, though her coworkers had seen her undressed more often than dressed.

“I want you all to see what Sunny here wanted so badly, what she was begging for with her little act of rebellion.”

He flipped her onto her stomach, leaning against one of the vanity ledges before the mirrors. She looked into her own eyes, wild and large with fear, breath shallow, as though she’d never been violated before.

But oh, no matter how often it happened, it still scared her greatly.

Her lips ached with the urge to plead, as she heard him unzip his pants, as she felt him poke his cock against her. Briefly, it touched against her cunt, before he readjusted, rubbing against her ass.

“No,” She whimpered. It hurt so badly the first time he’d done this. It had never stopped hurting. But at least those times, he’d used lubricant. Not dry. She couldn’t take it dry.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, drawing her head back, then slapping it against the mirror. Her blood streaked against the glass, as an anguished moan of pain streamed from her lips.

He forced his way inside her.

Her body felt like it was cracking at the edges. A china doll, shattering from being thrown down the stairs by a restless child. She scraped her fingers against the ledge, knocking over perfume and makeup as she thrashed and struggled, but he pushed deeper into her all the same. 

Rape was such an ugly word, but it was such an ugly act that she couldn’t say it was inaccurate. Harsh. Sudden. Brutal. He fucked her as her breath came in desperate cries, muffled by the bass of the song playing out in the main lobby. Just out there, girls danced and men drooled, oblivious to what was happening backstage. Would they care?

None of the girls watching seemed to care. Sunny looked towards them, a silent plea, not even for them to stop this, just for them to acknowledge her.

But they looked away.

He rocked frantically within her body, finally coming inside her with a groan of intense pleasure. She quivered painfully as he pulled out of her, before giving her ass an almost playful smack. “That’s it, you’re learning now, aren’t you?”

Her mouth was dry, but her eyes were wet.

“Aren’t you, Sunny?”

She tried to push herself upright, but he pushed down against her, palm against her cheek, smashing her face flush against the vanity, face turned to the side. The pressure increased the ringing in her ears.

“Thank me for doing such a good job taking care of you,” He hissed.

“Thank you,” She echoed.

“Not good enough.”

She felt his cum drip down the back of her legs, as he grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her upright. She grasped pitifully at his wrist to try to stall the pressure, just a little, but it did little to help, as he dragged her out of the dressing room, and into one of the private dance rooms. The lights were low, and she strained with her good eye to see anything concrete.

He left, and she hugged her knees to her chest.

The concept of leaving again didn’t even come to her mind.

He returned with supplies that she couldn’t quite see, though she saw the rope before he bound her arms behind her back. Her shoulders strained against the pressure, but she dared not complain. He squeezed one of her breasts after, cupping it, then brushing his thumb over the nipple, before he roughly twisted at it. She yelped, and he laughed. The music had been turned higher outside of here, she was certain of it.

“You shouldn’t have tried to leave me, Sunny. That makes me sad. Don’t you know how worried I was?”

The sick part was, for a moment, she believed him. Maybe he really had been worried. He was something of a father figure, after all. She was just one of his little girls. A doll he cared for.

And then he grabbed her foot, twisting it this way and that, before roughly cranking it around until the bone popped inside. She couldn’t even shriek, the wind gushing out of her lungs in a small gasp, before the pain even fully hit.

“That’s not enough to keep you here, though, is it? I don’t even think it’s broken, just a small sprain. You can walk on a sprain, can’t you? Go on, Sunny. Get up. Show me.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know what he wanted. Did he want her to be unable to walk? Did he want her to power through the pain? What was the right answer? His words weren’t enough to go by. She had to know the intentions too. The rules. She needed to know the rules.

Why was she so bad at surviving?

He helped her to the feet. The pain of putting pressure on her foot was blinding for a moment, but she stumbled forth, wobbling throughout the room. When her vision came back, he was looking at her with so much pride that she started to cry.

That was all she needed. She just needed someone to see. To be proud.

When he lowered her back to the ground, he propped her sprained ankle up on the soft plush lounge they used for so many of their lapdances and extras. She thought perhaps he was going to wrap the ankle.

Even when he pulled out the brick, she still thought he was going to help her. He was proud of her. He’d been so proud of her.

And then he smashed it through her shin.

And again.

And again.

Each new hit splintered her bones further and further. She expected to look down and see bone protruding through flesh, but found the site strangely bloodless. Her head spun, her arms twitching and twisting behind her back. Somehow, she could still feel the itch of the rope.

He smashed through her kneecap, and her sanity, and consciousness, faded from her mind.

In her dreams, Rich peeked out again, as Moses beckoned. Sunny watched as he ran to him, as he moved to throw his arms around his neck. Moses lifted him up, twirled him, before their lips met. Soft and real. “I’m so proud of you, Sunshine,” He said.

And the nickname was sweet and good.

And tainted.

Tainted.

Sunshine.

She watched as Rich melted from Moses’ hands, as Moses dripped into nothingness as the darkness consumed the entirety of their world, a flicker of film ruined from overexposure.

And when she woke up, she was drenched in sweat, as her manager dabbed a dry rag over her forehead. Her hair had been swept back away from her face, and she tried to remember why she was so feverish, until the pain began to vibrate through her entire being.

Her sex ached in the way it always did whenever she was violated in her sleep, and when she looked down, she was surprised to see blood pooling underneath her. He must have used something besides himself inside her, but she couldn’t imagine what. She was afraid that whatever it might be was still inside her.

Her shin felt like it was filled with gravel. Making the mistake of trying to flex her toes, she groaned pitifully. She didn’t dare look past the blood she was sitting in to see what her leg might look like. It felt tight and swollen already, and itchy, and the pain was so overwhelming that she suspected her mind was muting most of it from processing.

“Bones heal,” He said lowly. “Bones heal, but I need you to remember your place. What do we do with whores who forget their place?”

“I love riddles,” Sunny said deliriously. “Do we buy them a crown and call them the royal family?” 

He chuckled, and she hoped for a moment it was enough for him to see her again, to be proud, to not want to hurt her anymore.

“No, Sunny. Whores need to be taught their place. I’m going to make sure you, and everyone around you, never forget again.”

She watched as he pulled out his pocket knife, and his lighter. He heated the blade up. And she whimpered a little, though she wasn’t certain what he was going to do.

“Are you sure you can’t just add this one to my tab?” She slurred. Sweat began to dot her brow again, and he paused a moment, to wipe it clean.

“‘Fraid not, sweetheart.”

He finished heating the metal, and the tip of the knife fit to her forehead. For a moment, she thought he planned on stabbing straight through, on skewering her brain into mush and nothingness. A foolish thought, the blade wasn’t near thick or long enough to manage that.

And then he began to slice through her skin with burning hot metal.

The metal remained hot enough for sometime as he looped through the first letter that Sunny didn’t immediately feel blood. What she did feel was searing pain.

It reminded her of the fire. The smell was so similar, her own skin crackling and frying as he carved into her.

W. The first letter was a W. Near the ending loop, her blood began to trickle, no longer cauterized by the heat of the blade.

“Shit,” He murmured, pulling the knife back and taking his time heating it back up.

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good!”

The leg had hurt more, of course. But the smell. The smell of her own flesh burning. It was almost worse than the pain.

She didn’t want to go back to that place. She didn’t want to go back to that place. She didn’t want-

He began to slice the second letter into her. She thrashed about, but he forced her to still, hand against her neck, choking her, as he used his other hand to jaggedly rip and tear at her skin. She hiccupped in her despair, a soft sound of shock and pain through the lack of oxygen.

She forgot every name she’d ever held. She forgot every indignity she’d ever suffered. All that existed was pain. All that existed was pain and fire and her own flesh eaten away from bone.

After 45 minutes of carving into her skin, he finally pulled away. He grabbed a mirror, the last of his supplies, and held it up to her. Her ruined eye wasn’t so ruined as to fail to produce tears, and her pale face was wet with them, and with trickles of blood from the areas of the cut which hadn’t been properly cauterized. Her gaze raised, looking up at the word embedded into her forehead, backwards from the mirror, but large and red and swelling already, charred from the heat of the knife.

She’d never forget again.

Whore.

She’d stay in this backroom, let out once a day for the bathroom and to shoot her up with more drugs to keep her placid enough to mute her whimpers. There was no need for chains, though they kept her arms tied (except when shooting her up, and she began to crave those moments, the drugs and the freedom, albeit briefly, to stretch her arm). 

Her leg swelled up, purple and black and ruined, and her scarring began to scab over, but her ugliness deterred no one as customer after customer was led in to her. They were different than her old set of clients. She received no pay.

And they had no limits, no sanctity held for her body, as they used her in ways more painful, more violating, more desecrating than she ever knew possible. Hours upon hours of rape, in every position imaginable, all with the express goals of getting off and hurting her as much as possible in the process.

And she wouldn’t forget. She’d never forget again.

This was her position. This was what she was made for.

And with that, Rich Goranski was finally well and truly dead.


	17. Chapter 17

Babydoll.

There was something abnormal about that series of letters, that set of syllables. Or maybe it was just the first part. Baby. 

It made his skin crawl. No, it was both. Babydoll, baby, doll, any of those combinations. 

He hadn’t meant to leave Squip behind. He hadn’t even realized he’d stood until he was halfway to the back of the club, with the sinking realization that he didn’t know where the exit was, or the bathroom, and the entire place suddenly felt both too big and too small, just like himself. Too big, too ungainly, and too small, too defenseless. 

He started just trying doors once he reached a series of them. Accidentally unveiling sex act after sex act.

That was how he found her.

The girl was small. The sort of small that shouldn’t have belonged in a place like this. She cowered in the back corner of the room, a little hiss of pain from the light, or perhaps of fear at his approach.

The stench of sweat and sex and blood nearly overpowered Jeremy, and it was enough, for just the moment, to still the endless screech of babydoll in his head.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” She echoed back, before an unmistakable groan of terror left her. Like a cornered animal. Would she hurt him if he approached?

He felt guilt for even considering it. He eased the door closed behind him, as he stepped inside.

There was something terribly familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. All he saw now was her naked vulnerability, her terror.

The horrific swelling of her right leg, as though every bone had been shattered within. The skin was taut, and Jeremy suspected inside she must be raging with infection. The rest of her skin was papery and pale and sweaty.

Her forehead looked equally infected, letters engraved to mark her as a whore.

Jeremy placed a hand over his own mouth, eyes wide, trapping his gasp as he took a step backwards.

She cowered, but made no move to cover herself, and he realized her hands were bound behind her back. He wanted to untie them, but feared touching her, disturbing her, in case it frightened her further, in case it hurt her further. 

Still, he managed to turn her around. She arched towards him on instinct, and cum poured from her like a faucet. This girl had been used thoroughly all day, if not for several days, without being cleaned, and it made Jeremy’s stomach twist. 

A haunting, intrusive thought of ‘this should be me instead’ drifted through his head, but he was quick to ignore it, as he untied the ropes around her arms. Her arms were littered with track marks and scarring. All of her was scarred, in fact, red splotches and discolored patches.

There was familiarity in that too. But he couldn’t shake the first signs. The leg. Her forehead. The pink-tinged cum, as though she’d chafed and was in a constant state of bleeding in her bouts of violation.

“Can you wait here?” Jeremy said softly. “I…” He trailed off. “What’s your n-name?” It wasn’t important, but he brushed his fingers through her hair all the same.

“Sunny,” She lisped. “Sunny Daez.”

What an awful name. But Jeremy chose not to focus on that. “I’ll be right b-back, okay?”

“They always come back.” And she started weeping.

He wanted to stay with her. To comfort her somehow. But he couldn’t do that.

Instead, he shrugged off his cardigan and then, deciding that wasn’t enough, peeled off his shirt as well. Kneeling before her in his binder, he helped her pull the shirt on, which fell against her mid-thigh, then draped the cardigan about her as well. It was minimal coverage, but hopefully it would give her some comfort to have something over her. Jeremy knew it helped him to snuggle into one of his favorite cardigans when he wasn’t feeling well.

With that settled, he ran back out again, ignoring the looks to his newly exposed form.

Well.

Ignoring all looks except for the Squip’s, as he nearly ran into him.

He wouldn’t know it, but his memory would remain sharper when it came to their conversation, the transpiring of the events, every word spoken. Funny, since he couldn’t even remember why a simple word made him so uncomfortable.

“Where were you? And where are your clothes?!”

There was something comforting about his voice, and Jeremy practically threw himself at him. He hugged him, burying his face against his chest, as Squip cautiously ran his fingers through his hair, over his back.

“There’s a girl, w-we...there’s a...w-we need to...j-just...please, Squip, please, come with me, okay?”

He took Squip’s hand. Strange, suddenly, that he was running to Squip for help, instead of running away from Squip looking for help. When had the switch officially happened? So much had changed during this road trip.

But now wasn’t the time to ponder any of that.

He pulled Squip into the backroom, frustrated as he saw Squip pulling off his own shirt. “W-what are you-”

“You’re indecent. People were staring.”

“That’s what you care about? P-people judging?”

Squip pulled his shirt over Jeremy’s head. Oversized, and smelling like Squip’s cologne. It was a nice texture against his skin, but Jeremy scowled all the same.

Squip paused, placing a hand against Jeremy’s cheek, as though to steady him, as he looked into his eyes. “People are dangerous. I don’t want anyone to see you in this state and attempt to harm you.”

“Oh.”

He was worried about him.

And Jeremy felt so guilty for taking pleasure in that, if only a little bit. There was no time for pleasure either, in being delighted that someone was looking out for his best interest.

“That’s, um, l-listen, there’s a-”

“There’s a girl in here.”

Squip really did look young, Jeremy thought suddenly. Much younger than he’d looked when he’d been inside his mind. Or perhaps he’d just seemed more authoritative before, while now he seemed out of his element.

Regardless, his youthful face aged in his sorrow and realization as he stared at the girl cowering in the corner, draped in Jeremy’s clothing.

“This is why you were topless.”

“W-well, I couldn’t just….I couldn’t just leave her l-like that-”

“Of course. Your thinking was commendable.”

“Wh-what do we do?”

He hoped Squip wouldn’t say they should leave her. It wasn’t that Jeremy thought he would obey--he knew damn well he wouldn’t--but seeing Squip in that light, that cowardly self-serving light, would ruin everything they’d built up through these last several months.

“Take her with us, obviously.” Squip looked at him as though he were foolish, and Jeremy laughed. It wasn’t the right time to laugh, of course, but he couldn’t help it.

Perhaps it was just a nervous energy laugh.

Squip approached the girl, and Jeremy almost intervened. Surely his gruffness wasn’t what she needed right now.

But Squip dropped down to his knees, carefully taking the girl’s hands into his own. “We’re going to get you out of here,” He said, slow and articulate and calm. He watched the girl look at him, her eyes streaming tears--he wondered, perhaps, if she’d been crying constantly since she’d found herself in this mess (and Jeremy was almost certain she’d been here for a long time)--and Squip gave her hands another little squeeze. “You’re safe now. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jeremy almost smiled, but realized now wasn’t the time for smiles either. Still, he felt something warm within him, as Squip turned to look at him. 

“We need to move fast, Jeremy. When we get out of here, we need to move as fast as possible and find Moses. Understood?”

“Y-yeah, of course.”

“If anyone grabs you, you need to go for the vulnerable parts. Eyes. Testes”

This time, Jeremy really couldn’t help his laugh. He clapped his hands over his mouth to try to stifle it. But it came out anyway. The absurdity, both of himself fighting off some bad guy, and of Squip saying testes.

He didn’t know why it was so funny. He’d heard him curse before. But this wasn’t a curse, this was a wholly clinical term, and somehow that made it even funnier.

“Jeremy, as cute as you’re being, we really need to be serious.”

“I k-know but...testes…” He trailed off, looking apologetically to the girl.

She had a dreamy sort of smile on her face. Slurring, she repeated, “Testes.” There was that familiarity to her again, but it was gone just as soon as it came.

Maybe that was a good sign. Some hope that whoever she’d been before this, they could guide it out of her.

“I’m going to pick you up now. I promise, my intention is not to harm you.”

His arms slid under her body, and Jeremy saw the subtle way she tensed. Sunny offered no protests, though, as Squip pulled her into his arms. He seemed taller now, holding this small girl, and stronger, and Jeremy felt a wave of something come over him. Pride, perhaps. Affection, almost certainly.

The crushing guilt of finding him so attractive in the midst of a daring rescue, definitely.

“We need to get her to a hospital. That leg is almost definitely infected.” Squip commented. He said it idly, in the same manner in which Jeremy had started to giggle, a small distraction in the midst of mounting horrors.

They both took a few breaths, before they stepped out into the club again.

Squip took long strides, bundling Sunny up closer to himself, to his bare chest, as Jeremy hugged Squip’s shirt around himself for comfort as he shuffled rapidly behind him. They swerved around customers, who seemed repulsed by the sight of the girl. Repulsed, and unhelpful. How could an entire bar be so unwilling to help?

How could so many hurt someone so innocent, without even a flutter of guilt?

It made Jeremy angry. Angry and frightened. He wasn’t so different from this girl himself. What was to stop anyone from hurting him too?

The part of him that found it almost a thrilling prospect left him dizzy and even more frightened than before.

Because he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be taken advantage of or harmed. Why was he so fixated on it? What did that make of him?

A broken babydoll.

He wanted to throw up, but there was no time for that. So he swallowed his stomach acid, as Squip managed to get them out the door.

And for a moment, Jeremy thought they might be free.

“We need to get to the lot,” They’d parked the car at a Walmart, Moses getting supplies before they’d left. The sun startled Jeremy--he’d forgotten it was so early in the day, so caught up in the grime and darkness of the club--as they began to stride down the sidewalk. “Once there, we’ll get her to a hospital and-”

“Hey!”

The cry was ineloquent and angry, and though Jeremy didn’t turn around to see him, Squip clearly had. Cradling Sunny with one arm, Squip grabbed Jeremy’s arm with the other hand, tugging him roughly forward.

They ran.

They ran, and Jeremy could hear footsteps following after. They ducked through alleys, zigged and zagged this way and that, but still found themselves in pursuit. Jeremy’s legs burned, and his lungs ached, and he thought certainly they were doomed.

The pursuit continued for so long, or perhaps Jeremy was just so weak, that he thought certainly his legs would give out, and Squip would leave him behind. Until he heard Squip wheezing, realized it was more likely that Squip would give out.

So Jeremy was the one who began to lead, found himself moving faster than Squip, pulling him and the girl he was holding along. This way, that way, trying to shake the man chasing them through the small town. So small that anyone watching from the small businesses or the houses or churches felt no need to intervene.

Jeremy finally threw them behind a parked car, hand over Squip’s mouth to stifle his wheezed breathing, holding his own breath to keep quiet, and hoping the girl would do the same. He heard the footsteps continue moving, approach, and then run past, apparently convinced they’d ducked down some alley.

It wasn’t until the sound was completely silent that Jeremy let out his breath, and moved his hand away from Squip’s mouth.

They sat like that, simply breathing, before Sunny spoke up.

“Are you my new managers?” Her head bobbed pitifully, and her pupils were huge. She must have been high, or perhaps the pain was simply making her delirious.

“No. Just friends.”

“She sounds familiar,” Squip muttered.

Jeremy wanted to refute him. But he was right. There was something familiar.

It wouldn’t click completely until they made the trek to the Walmart parking lot though. Moses was loading a few bags into the trunk--they’d chosen to actually spend some of their ill-gained money rather than attempt to steal everything they needed--and he smiled upon seeing them, giving a little wave.

His hand faltered though, eyes widening, as he took in the bundle within Squip’s arms.

“Sunshine?”

It seemed strange to Jeremy, that he would guess the correct name, or almost the correct name anyway.

But then Moses’ voice cracked, eyes full, as he started to approach, tentative, terrified steps. “Rich?”

And the pieces slotted together. The misty, fogged eyes. The scars which must have been burns--burns Jeremy should have recognized immediately. How had he not recognized immediately?

How had Rich not said anything, either?

Somehow that prospect drowned out his own crushing guilt. It was one thing for him to not have recognized Rich. But for Rich to have not recognized him back…

He didn’t know how they were going to fix the broken pieces staring back at them.


	18. Chapter 18

“Please be gentle.”

Moses had thought a lot about what their first words would be once they were reunited. How he would apologize, how Rich would likely be resistant at first, but how they’d move on together. Forgive. Not that Moses needed to forgive, of course, but he imagined Rich would feel the need to apologize anyway. He was always sweet like that. Self-destructively sweet. Oh, how he wanted to convince him that there was nothing wrong with caring about his own feelings, his own traumas, his own tragedies for once, instead of projecting onto others, instead of falling into apologies or cutting jokes at his own expense.

But he’d run all the scenarios through his head. All the things to say, all the things that could remain unsaid. And he’d known, he’d known in his heart of hearts that Rich would be in rough shape.

But he hadn’t pictured this.

He wondered if he would have pictured this were he still a squip, were he still tendrils of data, future predictabilities beyond vague dreams and premonitions. Would he have seen this coming then?

Rich was smaller, the muscles he’d built up in his time with Moses withered away. He knew the hospital had already dwindled their size, but this was even more pronounced, his arms frail and thin, his hips and breasts pronounced, even through the fabric of Jeremy’s clothing. 

The word WHORE glittered upon his forehead. He’d need antibiotics, but Moses suspected little could be done to disguise the scarring once it was fully healed. Perhaps bangs would work with Rich’s facial shape.

His hair, speaking of, was longer than before, a sandier blond, curled into pigtails. The faintest traces of red dye flickered against the edges of one of the tails, the last sign of any dyejob the two of them had carried out.

And then there was Rich’s leg.

It was warped horribly, yet had a floppy, limp appearance to it. Clearly the bones within had been shattered, and likely several days ago. The skin was pulled tightly over the pebble-like bones, stretched outward in some places where sharp bone threatened to puncture the skin. The entire mass was twice the size of his other shin, and his ankle was bent at an unsteady angle as well.

There was little chance he’d get out of this without permanent damage. He was certain, even if the leg was saved, he’d never walk normally again.

And that was when Moses tried to pull Rich from Squip’s arms. He reached out, slipping his arms underneath his body, and Rich had stiffened, shaking his head.

And that was when he’d said his first words.

“Please be gentle.”

As if Moses had any intention of being anything but. At first, he felt a wave of shame, before that shame was replaced by horror, and anger, realizing that it was likely that in his delirious state, Rich didn’t know who he was being passed to, just that it was another body that was likely going to hurt him.

He could smell the bodily fluids he was basted in now. Semen, and his own blood, and Moses wanted to retch. Not out of nausea from the filth of it, but out of terror as to the depths of Rich’s damage.

“You keep him, I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t…” Moses trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned his face away. 

Squip clicked his tongue. “I just ran for my life from some one toothed Hoosier pimp. The least you can do is take the weight out of my arms.”

Moses glanced back at him, and managed the faintest of smiles. “You were close enough to count his teeth?”

“I was close enough to taste the meth in his breath.”

“W-we weren’t that close,” Jeremy corrected, nudging Squip with his elbow. “But, uh, but he was chasing us. I think we lost him though.”

Moses collected the broken fragments of his host. Rich’s head began to fall backwards, but he caught it, much like cradling a newborn who had yet to build up the muscles to support itself yet. Rich’s glassy eyes blinked up at him. Unseeing. Unfocused.

Forgotten. Moses had been forgotten. He hated himself for wanting to mourn, for being so convinced that everything was lost.

Rich raised his hand, caressing it over Moses’ cheek.

“You really are human now,” He murmured. There was a sense of wonder in his voice, as Moses held him in one arm, the other moving to press his hand over the back of Rich’s. He turned his head, kissing his fingertips, as a few tears bubbled and fell down his cheeks.

“Oh, Sunshine. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-”

“Apologies are nice, but perhaps we should get him to a medical facility.”

“Oh. Yes, yes, of course.” Moses wanted to cherish the moment. But the feverish tremble of Rich’s body within his arms compelled him towards the car. Oh. The rest of the supplies. And wouldn’t they need to pick up more for Rich? And-

Jeremy moved over to the cart, grabbing the last few bags and throwing them into the trunk. “Okay, we’re set, let’s-”

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

The drawl was so comically evil that Moses didn’t even register it at first. He glanced up, as did Squip and Jeremy, at the pale, wrinkled form of a man. His clothes were tight, and flashy, and his jowls hung heavy upon his otherwise skinny face.

Moses counted at least three teeth though. Squip was wrong there.

A pistol trained on Moses, then moved towards Squip, then finally landing on Jeremy.

“Oh, this motherfucker,” Squip snarled. 

“Squip, d-don’t-”

But Squip was already moving towards the man (though really, Moses didn’t want to give the creature enough credence to call him a man). Moses backed towards the car, opening the passenger door and setting Rich inside.

“Don’t wanna go back, please don’t make me go back-”

“Shh,” Moses hushed him softly, leaning in and kissing the top of his head. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? You’re staying right with me.”

“-at a Walmart? Really? You’re going to shoot us at a Walmart? What are you, fucking stupid-”

“Give me back my whore!”

The fighting outside made Moses wince, as he stroked his fingers through Rich’s hair. It was still soft, though it was obviously greasy, even with the bits that were clumped together. He was beautiful, even with the bruises on his neck, on his face, all along his body. He tugged the cardigan against him, snug and close, as though trying to hug him through the fabric.

“-nothing but a cumdumpster, and I’ll have her-”

“You’re a loser.”

“S-Squip, stop antagonizing-”

Moses started to turn his head, to try to see what was happening, only for a tiny hand to reach out again, brushing against his arm.

“Moses,” Rich breathed. “Moses, I...I’m so-”

“It’s okay. Everything is okay now.”

Except it wasn’t. Oh, it was a mess. He wasn’t sure how to situate Rich to make it hurt less, but he started with pulling the passenger seat back as far as it could go, then gingerly reaching down to grasp his leg. 

Rich cried out, a desperate little whine, as Moses murmured reassurances. He rested his crooked foot against the dashboard. Elevation should help, right?

Rich shivered horribly. Moses shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over his body in an attempt at warming him. But then, if he was feverish, should he not do that? Or was a fever supposed to be sweat out? 

It hardly mattered. As soon as this business with the pimp was dealt with, they could go on their way, get him to a hospital, and hopefully salvage his leg before it needed to be amputated.

Though from the looks of things, that prognosis was grim.

And then Jeremy screamed.

He heard the scream before he registered the sound before it, the harty crack, then the wet smack of a body hitting the ground. The pistol’s clatter against the asphalt, coupled with Jeremy’s shocked scream, finally drew Moses’ eyes away from Rich.

Squip stood over the body of the man who’d wielded a gun on them, one foot pressed against his still form. Moses took in the twist to his neck, the glossy fearful gaze upward, and then looked at Squip.

Squip, who could barely walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded.

“Did you just-”

“You…” Jeremy trailed off, carefully stepping towards Squip.

Squip smiled, a triumphant little smirk, as he placed his hands on his hips. There was a dignified sort of gloating in his eyes, sparkling happily. “There’s no need to thank me. Though I did just save us all. You’re welcom-”

Jeremy slapped him, sharply, right across the face. Squip’s face turned comically, smile dropping, eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

“You...y-you...you fucking IDIOT!” Jeremy shrieked. And Moses expected him to point out that he just killed a man in broad daylight in a parking lot.

But instead, Jeremy’s hands formed into fists, as he began pummeling Squip’s bare chest. “He h-had a gun, you idiot! You f-fucking reckless idiot! He could have hurt you. He could have killed you! Did you f-forget that you’re human? You stupid, hopeless, reckless, impulsive j-jerk. I w-was so scared. I-”

Squip tugged Jeremy close, grabbing one of his punching hands by the wrist, his other hand moving to Jeremy’s lower back. He dipped him backwards, just slightly, as his lips pressed against Jeremy’s.

Moses shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Nice,” Rich croaked from behind him. He glanced back towards him, Rich’s head flopped back against the seat, his eyes peering outward curiously. One shaky hand lifted, a thumbs up flashed, before he dropped his hand limply, closing his eyes as the exhaustion of simple communication overtook him.

Moses had never been more endeared, and more terrified, in his entire life. And he’d been alive, truly alive, for almost a year now.

Squip finally stopped kissing Jeremy, though his hold remained on him. Jeremy looked up at him, kiss-swollen lips parted, breathing heavily, his eyes blinking in surprise.

Before his free hand gave Squip’s shoulder a small smack.

“Y-you can’t just sh-shut me up when it’s convenient for you-”

“You can’t just go off on me when I saved our lives.”

“Y-yeah, well, I was worried.”

Squip kissed him again. “I know.”

“S-stupid.”

“I know.” He pressed another kiss to him.

“You’re a j-jerk,” Jeremy giggled though, as inevitably another kiss descended.

“I know.”

“Gentlemen,” Moses interjected, before they could go further into all the things Squip knew and was willing to kiss for. They looked towards him, blinking in that way one did when realizing they weren’t the only people in the world. “I appreciate the affection, and you know I’m a big fan of love, but perhaps we have some other matters to deal with.”

“O-oh. OH RIGHT! Rich! Oh my g-god, we have Rich back.”

“And he gravely needs medical attention.” Squip frowned, his eyes moving towards the feminized boy in the passenger seat. “He looks so different. Are you certain that’s him?”

Moses fixed an incredulous look on him. “You really don’t think I’d recognize my own boyfri--ah, host?”

“I don’t know. He just looks different.”

“N-no, we just weren’t looking,” Jeremy said softly. Shamed. 

Moses’ expression was soft. “Jeremy, the fact you saved him without knowing who he was proves your own genuine nature. And I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for helping me find him again.”

Jeremy smiled a little, though the self-loathing remained in his expression. Moses would have to figure out how to fix that too.

But for now, they needed to deal with Rich.

His eyes drifted downward. Squip finally lifted his foot off of the corpse, settling it down against the ground.

They’d killed a man, in broad daylight, at a Walmart supercenter.

“We should, perhaps, figure out what to do with the body as well.”

“Maybe we should just leave it.”

“Maybe,” Moses said, as he looked at Squip pointedly, “You shouldn’t be in charge of making grand plans anymore.”


	19. Chapter 19

So You’ve Slaughtered a Midwestern Sex Trafficker  
A 10 step guide to destroying the evidence

1\. Don’t Panic

_The most important step in dealing with the aftermath of an unfortunate murder is to keep your wits about you. Do not panic. Take a deep breath as you assess what has happened, and understand that these things occur everyday. You too can handle the burden of dealing with the corpse of a sex-criminal monster._

There was every reason in the world to panic here.

Squip took in a shaky breath, and not for the first time wished he didn’t need to breathe. His eyes drifted from the corpse, over to Jeremy, and then to Moses.

Moses moved over, as though understanding exactly what Squip wanted without him needing to say it. As if they really were fully synced now, in a way they never had been before. Both of them grabbed onto the corpse, which despite its thinness, was much heavier than expected.

Dead weight, Squip’s mind pointed out.

They tossed the body into the trunk, along with the groceries and their suitcase. It flattened several items, but they slammed the trunk, with the hope that no one had witnessed them.

“Do we just leave it in there?”

“W-We can’t drive around with a dead body forever,” Jeremy stammered. “The sm-smell-”

“And we’d be caught. The last thing we need is to be caught with a corpse in our car.”

“It was self defense,” Squip pointed out. 

“Maybe so, but do we really want to trust the American judicial system?”

Squip thought about it a moment. “No. Not particularly.”

2\. Dispose of Witnesses

_The less eyes on a scene, the better. Make sure you take care of any witnesses, before they make a bigger mess out of the spilled milk you’re not to cry over._

There was too much to focus on, and not enough seconds in a minute to consider them all. Squip’s eyes moved from the friends he’d been traveling with (perhaps more than friends--his lips were still buzzing from the kiss; it wasn’t the right time or place to think about kisses, though), to the goal they’d been chasing after.

Rich was in no state to travel, whether with a body or otherwise.

“We need to drop them off at the hospital,” Squip said softly. He looked to Jeremy, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll need you to stick with Rich, while Moses and I-”

Jeremy’s face was pale, as he gave a curt nod. “O-of course. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.” He considered kissing him again (because oh, he looked cute in his shirt), but instead gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “I know you can,” He repeated, a little softer. Because he was confident in him, but he needed Jeremy to feel confident too.

Moses opened his mouth as though to protest. “I should really stay with-”

“I know you want to stay with Richard. But I can’t…” He trailed off. There was little chance he’d live it down if he admitted his own weakness. But he had little choice. “...I can’t do this without you.”

Moses had the decency not to look amused as he gave a small nod of his own.

And so they drove to the nearest hospital, which turned out to be a good twenty minute drive away, through cornfields and pothole-ridden back roads. Squip felt the same urge as Moses once they pulled up. Jeremy needed him. He needed guidance. He needed support.

He needed help moving Rich’s whimpering, pained body to a wheelchair.

But that was all he could do, before he and Moses were pulling away. A small promise to return to pick them up, and then they were off.

“Any clue what we’re doing?” Moses asked.

“Not in the slightest.”

3\. Find a secure location to consider your options

_Take the body and hunker down somewhere. Bundle the corpse up in some tarp or into a suitcase to lessen suspicion._

Securing a motel room in cash usually wasn’t a hassle, but this time they found themselves hitting multiple locations before they found one that was suitable.

They threw the corpse into the suitcase, wheeling it to the outside-facing door of their seedy room, several hundred dollars lighter for a room that normally only cost $39.99.

Such was the price for privacy.

Hanging the Do Not Disturb sign outside the door, they rolled the case inside, and double-locked the door behind them.

4\. Cut the body into manageable pieces

_Sometimes a full corpse is just too much to manage. Get creative with the cuts. Remove teeth and sandpaper down fingerprints. The more mutilated and small the chunks of flesh are, the less likely a body will be identified, and the more likely you’ll get away with these hijinks._

The metallic smell of blood strangely reminded Squip of being inside Jeremy. Not that his brain was bloody, but there was something human and all encompassing about it.

They hacked off another finger, dropping it into the suitcase with the other dismembered parts. Half of a foot. A pile of teeth. Hunks of torso. The smaller they chopped him up, the better, though Squip was starting to think they should have bought some bleach--

“Good thing I picked up bleach at Walmart.”

“What? Why?”

“We need to do laundry.”

“You and your damn laundry.”

“Well, would you rather be traveling in your own filth?”

“I am not filthy, Moses. My clothes are not filthy.”

“You smell like an ashtray half the time, and the few times I can get you to eat, you dribble upon yourself.”

“That’s hardly fair! ...help me crack through this bone, would you?”

By the end of it, their suitcase was a carcass of entrails, limbs, and gristle. Squip was banished for his lack of skill in cleaning, as Moses dealt with bleaching and mopping up the blood to keep from traumatizing a housekeeper.

5\. Consider disposal methods

_If there’s no body, there’s no crime! Think back to how the greats have managed body disposal in the past. Remember: good artists borrow, great artists steal. Don’t be afraid to go with what’s worked in the past. In the end, your own special creativity will shine through._

“Should we just flush him down the toilet?”

Moses looked at Squip with the sort of stupidity usually reserved for…

Well, come to think of it, Squip couldn’t think of anyone else Moses had ever looked at in that way.

“No,” He finally said, as though Squip actually needed an answer.

“It was just a thought. No need to be so defensive.”

6\. Try Acid

_One of the more daring and foolproof methods of disposal is through acidicly breaking down the body in a vat of corrosive chemicals. As you watch the liquids eat away the deceased’s throat, you won’t be able to stop thinking ‘talk about a bad case of heartburn!_

This time, it was Moses who received the ‘you’re a fucking idiot’ look.

“Where, exactly, do you expect to get a barrel full of acid, Moses?”

“It was just a-”

“A barrel of acid! Are you kidding me?”

“I just-”

“A _barrel_ of _acid_!!! A BARREL! OF ACID!”

“Well, pardon me, you don’t hear me shooting down your ideas.”

Squip stared at him in shock. “All you do is criticize my ideas!”

“Well, your ideas are terrible. Mine is logical, if a bit impractical.”

“A bit? A bit impractical?”

“If you keep that up, princess, I’m going to have to get rough with you.”

“What the hell? Are you flirting or threatening?”

Moses shrugged, and Squip scowled.

7\. Or Fire

_Acid can be difficult to procure, but fire is just a matchstick away. Be sure to be liberal with the gasoline._

The flames in the empty dumpster had been hard won, but gasoline had accelerated the process.

Moses backed away, as Squip threw another chunk of flesh into the mix.

“This is the truly efficient way to--Moses?”

Moses’ breathing was shallow, his eyes large, the whites of them overpowering his irises with the intensity of how wide his eyes were. HIs hands clenched and unclenched.

The smell of barbequed human began to make Squip’s eyes water. And realization started to trickle in.

Of course Moses wouldn’t like the idea of a body burning. That must have been why he was so resistant in the first place.

Squip doused the flames, retrieving what pieces of body hadn’t already burned up, and placing the char back into the suitcase.

“A bad idea,” Squip said simply, patting Moses on the shoulder. “I suppose we can go with my other alternative.”

8\. Or Consumption by animals

_Wild animals have needs and hungers of their own. Why not do the charitable thing and let a beast consume the remains? It’s not like you have any use for them yourself!_

The shelter listed the dog as a purebred pomsky. 

Squip had argued for a good moment about how that made no sense. Purebred implied one breed. A pomsky was a mixed breed.

Moses had cooed about how cute he was, though. And though he was small, Squip suspected that the husky portion of him would kick in once faced with forbidden kibble.

“Come on,” Squip urged. They’d paid a hefty amount to skip all the necessary paperwork in order to adopt the puppy. He sniffed around the suitcase, and then sniffed around in a circle, taking a moment to pee, before bounding back towards Moses. 

Moses stooped down, petting the dog with his oversized hands. “You’re a good boy, yes you are. Such a good boy.” Moses’ higher pitched voice dropped into its normal low cadence, as he looked at Squip. “I don’t think he’s going to eat it.”

“He’s descended from wolves. Vicious carnivores. He’ll eat it.”

He did not, as it turned out, eat it. But he did play dead for a treat, which was almost as good, Squip supposed.

9\. If all else fails, nothing beats good old fashioned burial 

_No acid? No fire? No animals? No problem! Take the chunks of your desecrated corpse and find a nice, remote area of the world to bury it. For best results, scatter the remains around to make it more difficult to identify any discovered arms or toes._

“We can’t name the dog ‘Dog’, Squip. That’s a terrible name.”

“It’s what his function is, is it not?” The shovel had taken the last of their cash on hand. Squip dug a little deeper, before tossing a hand into the pit. He covered it with dirt, then moved a few feet away to begin digging another impromptu grave.

They’d driven deep into the forest, offroad, to pull this off. Maybe they should have driven towards Lake MIchigan instead to dump the body there. Surely the fish would prove more useful at consuming a body than the dog had.

A dog which Squip was determined to name a practical sort of name.

“How about Puppy then? Though he’ll outgrow that. Hence why-”

“We’re not naming him Dog. Why don’t we just allow Jeremy and Rich to name him?”

“They’ll choose some awful goofery. Some sort of video game reference. No, this boy needs some dignity.” Squip sprinkled some of the teeth into the pit, then buried them, moving further away to dig another hole. Dog chased after him, and he resisted the urge to smile as the puppy began digging alongside him. “Digger?”

“That’s a little better,” Moses conceded. “But still awful. How much more do we have to go?”

“Most of a torso, and half of a head.”

“Hm. We should probably travel a few more miles before burying those.”

“Agreed. Come along, Dog.”

“We’re not naming him Dog!”

10\. Retrieve your accomplices and get the fuck out of town

_Once the body is situated, you need to unsituate yourself and flee as far and as fast as you can. Click your heels and get yourself out of Oz, Dorothy. There are no yellow brick roads in prison, and that’s where you’ll be lickety-split if you don’t move away from the rotting remains before the cadaver dogs come sniffing._

Squip’s hands shook despite himself, stilled as much as they could be by the steering wheel.

“What if they keep them overnight?”

“We’ve already been gone a full day,” Moses pointed out. Dog sat in his lap, panting. Perhaps he needed water. How did one care for a dog, anyway? Especially while escaping a murder site.

God. They’d gotten rid of the body, but they weren’t out of the proverbial woods yet, were they?

“And if they keep Rich another night, that’s alright. I doubt anyone is really looking for that man. We have time.”

“But-”

“Squip. It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep us safe.”

Squip’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. “I’m the one who kept us safe, Moses. I killed him.”

Moses laughed. “Yes. Yes you did. But perhaps don’t announce that once we’re at the hospital, okay?”

“Obviously. I’m not an idiot.”

“Just reckless, like Jeremy said.”

“Well, he also called me an idiot.”

“Well...Jeremy knows best, does he not?”

“Shut up.”

They pulled up to the hospital, as Squip pulled out his phone to call Jeremy. His hand continued to shake, as he tried to convince himself he wasn’t disturbed by the sight of what a human’s insides truly resembled. Strange, that it was just hitting him now.

No need to dwell, though.

It was time to go home. Wherever that ended up being.


	20. Chapter 20

Rich sat in his bed in the pajamas Jeremy had purchased for him in the gift shop. And Jeremy couldn’t help but think about how familiar this all felt. Waiting to be discharged, the melancholy of the atmosphere ignored as best as possible.

The best wasn’t very good. Rich’s eyes kept swelling with tears, though he’d inevitably blink them away.

Rich’s forehead was swathed in bandages, his hair shaggy and resting between chin and shoulders. Every nurse and doctor had called him Miss and he hadn’t bothered to correct them.

Jeremy should have. Why hadn’t he? He felt sick thinking of his own inadequacies. All this time spent finding Rich, and now that he was here, he wasn’t even protecting him properly.

The leg had been a more difficult venture than treating the infection of his forehead with antibiotics and a simple coverage to the wound (and a declaration that scarring was highly likely, and a brief consultation with a plastic surgeon that Jeremy was well aware no one would be able to afford). He’d nearly lost it completely, though they’d eventually come to some sort of treatment. Jeremy wasn’t sure what, just that Rich’s leg was casted now, with a prescription for crutches called in, and another declaration, like the scarring, that he’d likely need a cane for the rest of his life to counteract the imbalance of his body from here on out.

“That’s okay, everything else about me is lopsided and broken anyway,” Rich had said, but it had seemed to be an autopilot response. He’d fallen silent after, glassy eyed for several hours. Jeremy had sat with him, and squirmed, because someone had to move.

It had always been Rich who’d fidgeted in the past. Jeremy had hardly gotten time to know him, but he knew that much.

Rich usually had so much energy, it was like it couldn’t be contained in his tiny body. But here, he lay completely still, staring at the wall, occasionally blinking.

It wasn’t until they were about to be released, and Rich was in his soft, oversized pajamas (which had been marked up way too much, but Jeremy wasn’t prepared to leave the hospital to find something cheaper) that he actually started to speak up a little.

“What’re you guys doing in...I don’t know what state we’re fucking in.”

“Indiana.”

“Oh.” Rich’s forehead creased a little, the bandages moving slightly with the action. He hissed, forcing himself to relax his facial muscles, as though the act of moving his skin in any way had injured him.

It probably had. Jeremy had a feeling that most of Rich’s life from here on out would be spent adjusting to and counterbalancing the pain that would follow him everywhere.

It made him sick.

“Why are you here?”

“L-looking for you.”

“Why?” Rich didn’t say it accusatory, but rather with genuine curiosity and confusion. Why would anyone look for him?

It also made Jeremy sick, but in a different way. How could Rich think so lowly of himself, when he had so much to offer? He was funny. He was smart. He was impossibly pretty, perhaps even more so after the fire.

Oh.

That was fetishistic and gross to think though, wasn’t it? To find attraction in his scars? It wasn’t that he took pleasure in Rich’s suffering--far from it. Perhaps he just found it attractive because this was the Rich he’d grown to know. This was the Rich they’d spent so long searching for.

“Because, um, b-because we love you, s-stupid,” He finally said, realizing he hadn’t answered. Briefly, Rich smiled, and the knot in Jeremy’s stomach loosened a little.

“You really are queer, aren’t you, Queere?” 

“Well, my squip did kiss me, so…” He trailed off, not only because it was the wrong time to say something like that (though he’d done so around Rich, he wasn’t certain if he’d seen or processed).

“So I saw. Hot. Did he slip you the tongue?”

Jeremy’s face burned. “N-no.”

“Stupid. He doesn’t know how to kiss then. Me? I know how to kiss.” He said boldly. Then, lips quivering a little, eyes falling downcast, he added, “I know how to fuck too.”

“Rich-” But what did he say to that? How did he even begin acknowledging that lumbering something, that great big Awful that filled up the room but no one wanted to claim as their own. Jeremy’s shirt was still sticky with the cum which had covered Rich’s body, and though he tried to ignore it, the heft of the stains would never properly wash out.

“I don’t...you shouldn’t have looked for me. I’m all ruined and shit now.” Rich laughed, and though Jeremy wanted to believe he was joking around, he knew damn well he wasn’t.

Jeremy glanced at the door, to see if the nurse was back with the wheelchair yet. Squip had already called and let them know they were outside. Good timing. And good timing, he supposed, for Rich to start opening up, except once again they were on borrowed time. Soon the nurse would be there, and she’d break up whatever conversation they had going.

“I don’t th-think you’re ruined, Rich. You’re, uh, you’re just a little more-”

“Broken?”

“I d-dunno what I was going to say, um, but, um, well, I don’t think it was b-broken. But even if it was, s-so what? Most of my favorite things are. My N64 barely works, a-and I still love it. And, uh, I meant it, about loving you.”

“Aw Queere-”

“I’m s-serious. I wouldn’t have, um, w-wouldn’t have traveled for this long if I didn’t.”

Rich finally began to fidget around, playing with his hospital bracelet and frowning. “What do I do with that? Am I supposed to get on my knees and thank you?” There was an anger to his voice. Jeremy tried not to let it get to him, but he felt himself shrinking away. “What the fuck am I supposed to say? You wasted your time. You really wasted your time. I’m not worth-” His voice cracked, and his face fell, and the tears once again came in like the tide, lingering but never quite falling. “I don’t want to get mad,” He whimpered. “I’m not mad. I just-”

“Don’t feel l-like you deserve it?”

Rich sniffled, nodding miserably.

“Well, um, I w-wouldn’t feel like I deserved better in your place either. I mean, you do deserve b-better! I just...I get it. F-feeling like a bad guy all the time.”

“I’m not even a good villain, dude. I mean, I guess I do sometimes wear that sexy eyepatch.”

“We can pick you up another, i-if you want.”

Rich shrugged a little. Jeremy hoped it hadn’t been the wrong thing to say. He didn’t want him to close up again. 

“I guess it is kinda my signature look now. Like you and those cardi-things.”

“M-my cardigans?” Jeremy went to adjust it, only to remember that Rich was wearing it over his pajamas.

“Oh right. I should probably give it back.”

“N-no, keep it.” Jeremy smiled slightly. “It makes you l-look more dignified.”

“I could use some damn dignity, dammit.” Rich’s voice trailed off. “What’s, uh, what was it like traveling with, um, with the squips?”

“Oh. I-I mean, weird I guess. Or it s-started kind of weird.”

“But then you fell in love,” Rich’s tone was lighter, teasing.

Jeremy considered smacking him with one of the pillows, but thought better of it. “I w-wouldn’t say I’m in love. It was, uh, it was one kiss.”

“Your first kiss.”

Something felt incorrect about that. But Jeremy pushed past it, and the little echo of baby that came with it. He wasn’t going to fall back into that swamp.

Except falling into it in the first place helped him find Rich. Maybe he was meant to wallow in the filth.

“Y-yeah,” He said instead. Because he didn’t want to sink right now. He wanted to stay surfaced, to be here with Rich. Rich needed him, whether or not either of them fully realized how much. “He’s, uh, h-he’s kind of a dork, actually. Squip I mean.”

“You just call him Squip?”

“All the g-good Biblical names were taken.”

“You could have named him Noah or something. He can part your red sea--wait, that was Moses too, wasn’t it? Uh. Noah. Noah was...oh right! He can flood your, like...you know. He can make you wet.”

Jeremy laughed brightly, shaking his head as he did so. “I-I’m not calling him Noah.”

“No-ah way, dude. It’s a good idea.”

“Y-you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, you love me.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy smiled. “I do.”

The nurse showed up with the wheelchair not too long after that. And Jeremy helped Rich hobble to it. They’d pick up the crutches from the Walmart pharmacy later, Jeremy was certain. And then what? Would they just drive back to New Jersey? It hardly seemed a fitting end for their journey.

“What about Moses?” Rich asked softly, as the nurse began to push him down the hallway, as Jeremy walked beside him. Rich looked up at him, eyes wide.

Frightened.

Except Jeremy couldn’t quite place where the fright was aimed. Was he still afraid that Moses might hurt him? Jeremy didn’t dare press too much in that direction, though he’d picked up some details from Rich’s actions and their time in the hospital the first time, and he’d picked up some talk of obsolescence and failed downloads from Squip and Mo’s talks. 

Was he frightened, perhaps, of being unforgiven? But hadn’t the fact they’d come all this way to find him proven that Moses didn’t see anything that needed to be forgiven?

Jeremy supposed if he was in Rich’s position, the world would have frightened him too. He’d certainly been put through the worst of humanity already.

He reached over, taking his hand. “Moses m-missed you a lot.”

“I missed him too. But I...god, bro, this is hard.”

“I know. B-but, um, but you don’t have to do it alone at least.”

Rich managed a weak smile. “I know. Um. I, like, love you too, dude, by the way. Squip’s not the only one charmed by that little smile of yours.”

“What l-little smile?”

“The cute one you do when you, like, don’t realize anyone’s paying any attention to you. Like when you hear a joke or see something pretty or feel happy with someone or whatever. You used to get those smiles during those really sappy commercials sometimes, right before you’d scoff and we’d make fun of them together.”

Jeremy’s neck felt warm, and he rubbed the back of it as though to soothe the heat. “You, uh, you really pay attention, huh?”

“Thanks. It’s the trauma,” Rich said casually. 

And Jeremy supposed, though it was a joke, that it was true. He’d probably be hyperaware of the moods of others, the atmosphere of the room. It almost sounded like some sort of empathic superpower, except for the fact that it was utterly exhausting.

Jeremy knew, because he noticed those things too.

Just like he could feel the tension and worry coming from the brown car before they’d even fully reached it. He squeezed Rich’s hand, as the nurse asked if he needed help being guided into his seat. 

“I, uh, I think I can help him.”

Jeremy was usually the one who required guidance. It was the entire reason he’d gotten a squip. Guiding him through the solitude and loneliness of his life, under the guise of wanting Christine. 

Maybe, just this once, he could be the one to do the guiding instead.

Rich was stiff, nervous, as the two sets of eyes looked out to them. Jeremy shook his head slightly when he saw Moses start to move, as though to get out. No, it would be better, Jeremy thought, if he helped Rich first. Helped him get his feet wet.

He was careful as he guided him. “Dude, no offense, or full offense really, but this car is butt ugly.”

“Yeah, I can s-see why mom didn’t, uh, didn’t take it when she, um…”

“Banana split?”

Jeremy smiled. “R-right.” He was uncomfortably aware of his own smile now, but it was a pleasant sort of awareness, even in its discomfort. It was strange to know anyone really saw him.

He helped Rich into the car, and hoped beyond hope that he could help him fully into this little family they’d built too.

God, maybe that was why he was afraid to go home. Who was to say they’d still have all this, still have each other, once the wave of their town fully toppled them over.


	21. Chapter 21

Moses was even more beautiful than Rich remembered.

It hardly seemed possible, because his memories had already been a kaleidoscope of beauty and longing, of constellations that made up his being. Moses had been unattainably beautiful, except that at one time, Rich really had attained him. And though their moments of passion had almost certainly been the result of delirious hallucination, they’d felt real. Passionate.

Loving.

And oh, how Rich had loved him. He’d never thought himself capable of love, or of being loved. And then Moses had come around.

And then Moses had disappeared, replaced by some creature wearing him as a suit. Cruel. Violent. The way this creature had called him Emily, holding his head flat against the ground as he’d fuck him, over and over again. And though his trauma had almost certainly been the result of terrified hallucination, it had felt real.

In some ways, it was worse than when he’d been used in the stripclub, though certainly there had been more physical pain in that last week. At least none of them had betrayed his sense of love, of security.

They secured the crutches, and some changes of clothes, and a couple popsicles. Rich always loved the lime ones, and though he and Moses hadn’t said a word to each other yet, he saw Moses effortlessly choose the one he wanted.

It made him feel bad that he wasn’t able to finish it. Two or three licks, before he mumbled to Jeremy that he felt ill.

They’d barely driven two towns over, yet they were already stopping. Just because Rich felt sick. Pathetic, to topple their plans of escape so completely.

Having the popsicle thrown away, he struggled with the crutches. They hurt under his armpits, but he needed to learn how to be independent.

When he inevitably fell, it was Jeremy’s Squip who scooped him up. Rich saw the way Moses twitched, his body starting to move towards him, but freezing.

He almost wished he’d ignored his instinct to stop and picked him up himself. Instead, Squip carried him bridal-style into the motel room. Two beds, Jeremy and Rich set into one, while Squip and Moses would share the other.

And it felt wrong. It felt incomplete. But Rich dared not press it too much.

Rich barely felt like himself anyway. How could he hope to share any of his being with Moses, right now especially?

His mind kept slipping into Sunny, especially any time he caught his reflection. Sunny. Slutty, ugly Sunny. The men slipped her paper currency and caressed her ass and called her hideous, even as they pounded into her tiny body. Sunny, who was made to be torn into pieces, to be parceled out and parted and-

“Rich.”

Every call of that name helped tug him out of it. He wasn’t Sunny anymore. He was Rich again. He was Rich again, and he was in pain, but the pain was good, right? Because it meant he was alive. And being alive was good, because

Because…

Because…

He couldn’t figure out the answer to that.

What he did know was that Moses hadn’t said a word since he’d joined them again from the hospital. He kept catching him looking, though, a sad puppydog stare that fully convinced Rich that this was the real thing. There was no great hideous creature underneath, waiting to devour what remained of Moses and destroy what lingered of Rich.

It really was Moses. His Moses. The one he’d loved.

The one he still loved.

But he didn’t know how to tell him it was okay to talk, that he didn’t need to stay so silent and so repentant. 

“We’re going to, uh, we’re going to g-go-”

“Make out?” Rich supplied. It was later in the evening by the time that came up, and he watched in amusement as Jeremy’s face turned pink.

“If that’s what we so choose, it’s none of your concern,” Squip countered. He took Jeremy’s hand, kissing the back of it. Jeremy’s face somehow turned even pinker at the show of possessiveness.

“That’s really what you two are doing? Dope.”

“W-we, uh, we’re just gonna go to the v-vending machine, that’s all. Do either of you want anything?”

“Nope.” Rich wasn’t sure he could keep anything down. It was bizarre even to himself, his lack of appetite. Even during his first stint in the hospital, after the fire, he’d eaten--largely jello, yes, but he’d still eaten. Now he couldn’t even finish a popsicle.

He suspected it was the shape, though, in that case. Which was utterly embarrassing to admit. And so he wouldn’t, tucking the humiliating fact of being bested by a phallic food. Oh he hoped they weren’t ruined forever for him.

Even with the direct question, Moses didn’t speak, instead shaking his head meekly. He sat on the edge of his own bed. 

“O-okay. We’ll be back.”

“Use chapstick, lovebirds. Lube up them smackeroos.”

“Sh-shut up, Rich.” Jeremy giggled though, as the two of them left.

They sat in silence for all of 20 seconds before the crushing emptiness of it got to Rich. He squirmed over to the edge of his own bed, staring at Moses intently.

“You can, like, sit next to me, if you want.”

“Oh, I-”

“Fine, I’ll come to you.” He swung his cast and his other leg over the edge of the bed, staring down at the ground for a moment. Where were his crutches? He wasn’t certain he could hobble over. Maybe he could just bounce on his good foot until he reached.

“No, no, I’ll...please don’t hurt yourself, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

Rich felt, briefly, the tug of his stagename flood back. Sunny.

And then the dog, the mystery unnamed dog which had been in the car when Rich had settled inside, barked, once. And Rich smiled, reaching down to let the pup lick his hand. The dog backed up, wriggling his butt with the intensity of his wagging, before leaping up onto the bed. 

“See? This bed really is better. Free dog. Free me. Free, like, vibes or whatever. A low low price of nothing at all.” He paused, looking down, as his hand absentmindedly pet the dog. “Please?”

Moses rose from his bed. His height really was something to behold. Rich was uncertain if he’d ever been fully measured, but he had to be at least close to 7’. And all manifested by Rich’s desires, right?

It felt strange to think of him like that. Moses had always seemed like his own independent person, even before he’d gotten his body. No, his height wasn’t just something Rich had conjured up. It was something all his own.

And it was wonderful. Instead of frightening Rich, in that moment it made him feel safe.

Nothing could break through or take him away, as long as Moses was here. He’d protect him. He’d protect all of them.

But wasn’t that too intense a burden to place upon his broad shoulders?

Moses settled into Jeremy’s side of the bed, propped up against the pillows. The puppy ran over to him, jumping onto his belly and yipping once, before it walked up, licking his youthful face. It felt strange, truly, to see what had once been a near-authority figure in terms of appearance and stature, now in the body of a teenager.

It was also strange for Rich to realize that he was completely and hopelessly jealous of the dog, who had the privilege of being on Moses, and of adorning his face with (in this case, doggy) kisses.

“God I wish that was me.”

“You can take him, if you’d like. He seems to really enjoy you.”

“No, I mean…” Rich trailed off. He’d let Moses think he meant he wished the dog was loving on him instead. Easier that way, than untangling the complexities of whatever they were now. “I, um. I’m sorry, to have put you through all this.”

“I’m sorry I frightened you so much.”

“No, I…” Rich trailed off. It had been so long ago, when he’d left. He had been frightened, though, hadn’t he? Frightened of being hurt. Frightened of doing the hurting.

Frightened of what they might be, or what they might become.

He’d always been more timid than he liked to let on. But Moses knew all of that, didn’t he? Moses knew everything about him, or had known everything about him anyway. But he certainly didn’t know yet how disgusting he’d become. How pathetic. How easily he’d turned his back on what he’d been.

What did that mean for him? That he’d been so easily duped into going female once more. Was this all a sham? An act?

“Everything scares me, Mo. It wasn’t...I mean, I don’t know.”

“I hurt you. There is nothing I can do to make that up to you.”

“I mean, you spent a couple months--shit, how long has it been? You driving around?”

“Six or seven months, give or take. Maybe nine. Time moves strangely lately.”

“Nine months! Shit, I could have had a baby in that time. I mean, for all you know, I did,” Rich meant it as a joke, but he saw the color subtly drain from Mo’s face. “I, uh, no pregnancy scares, by the way. I was lucky.”

Lucky.

As if any of this had been lucky.

But he couldn’t let himself fall into a pit of self-pity. It was amazing enough that he was himself enough now to even have this conversation.

“Anyway though, you spent nine fucking months trying to find me. Even though I was so mean to you.”

“You were never mean.”

“You just wanted to talk, and I ran away. Pretty fucking mean.”

“You were scared. You didn’t know my intentions. I would have ran too, in your position.”

“Really?” Rich had trouble believing that, even as Moses nodded.

His face looked utterly miserable. “I would have done anything to get away from me. I...if it weren’t for Jeremy and Squip, I’m certain I would have done anything to get away from myself now, too. Except I don’t have the ease of simply running. No matter where I go, I’ll always still be this.”

“I thought you’d, like, enjoy the body thing.”

“Oh, I do. Very much.” Mo’s sad face lifted into a shy smile. “Being human is...it’s better than I could have imagined.”

“There are some perks, for sure. Eating. Fucking.”

“We already did the latter,” Moses teased. And then his face fell, and he looked away. His voice was full of regret. “I shouldn’t have--I am so sorry, Richard.”

“Why? They’re still good memories.” Rich started to reach out, hand hovering over Mo’s arm. The idea of physical touch made him itch uncomfortably, and he couldn’t bring himself to lower his hand to actually bridge the distance, so he pulled it back. “I don’t regret it. I don’t regret you. I mean, you don’t regret me, do you?”

“I regret letting myself degrade enough to hurt you.”

“What do you mean?”

Moses’ voice trembled as he spoke of it. The short-term life of squips. The booming technological advances that would render old models unworthy of upgrades, of system maintenance. The inability to properly sync.

Losing himself, bit by bit, until he was-

“The creature.”

“What?”

Rich’s face colored. “You...this is going to sound bad. But it was like...like you’d gotten eaten by some monster or something, from the inside out. And it was just wearing your skin. A creature. A monster. A being. I...I guess I always kind of knew it wasn’t really you, but…”

“But it still looked like me. This creature.”

“Did you know? Like, from inside of it. Inside of you. Did you know?”

“I have perfect memories of every hurt I put you through.” Moses reached out, petting the dog slowly. “If I could terminate myself…” He trailed off, laughing. “I’m human. Of course I can. And I would, if it would make you feel better.”

“Dude, no. I don’t want you to off yourself. Don’t be stupid.”

“I believe Jeremy and Squip would resurrect me just to kill me again if I tried.”

“Damn right. And then I’d spit on you. And you never know where my spit has been. Trust me, bad places.”

Neither of them laughed at the joke. There was too much truth there.

“Well, I’m, ah, I’m not a creature anymore.”

“At least not a bad one,” Rich wanted to prod at him, but he also wanted nothing to do with physical contact. He crossed his arms instead, smiling up at the ceiling. “We’re all just little creatures doing our thing, right?”

“I suppose so.”

“I like this, um. You being here. I’m glad you found me.” Rich shifted against the bed. “Not just because they were hurting me. But, um, because I missed you. All of you. Well, not really Squip. No offense, but I never really knew the guy.”

“Perhaps for the best.” Moses let the sentence linger for only a moment, before he corrected, “I greatly care about him. He’s family.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. I...fuck, man, we could all use some family, you know?”

“I could be your family, Richard.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Rich looked down, taking a shaky breath. He didn’t want Moses as his family. He didn’t want him to be his brother figure or his quirky uncle or any of that. He certainly wanted all those things, but not from Moses.

But would Moses want differently from him too?

He bridged the gap all the same, despite being unable to do so physically. Voice wobbling, he said, “You’re my boyfriend. We’re not, like, weird incest twins or something.”

Moses was silent, and Rich realized he might have made a grave mistake.

Of course Mo wouldn’t want to be his boyfriend anymore. Rich had called him a creature! Rich had run away and joined the world’s horniest circus. 

Rich was ruined. He’d always be Sunny, if only a little. How he wished to shed that name and go back to being-

“Sunshine, do you really mean that?”

This time, the nickname uplifted instead of hammering home the bad memories.

“Of fucking course I do.”

Moses turned towards him. “I’d really like that.” He opened his arms, as though to envelope Rich.

Rich shrank back. Ashamed. “But, um, I don’t know if I’m ready to...I don’t know if I can…”

“Ah. Of course.” Rich was afraid to look up, to see the hurt on Mo’s face.

But when he did finally meet his gaze, Moses was smiling, eyes a little misty.

“I just missed you so much.”

“Me too.”

“I’ll be better this time.”

Rich meant to tell him that Moses was already perfect, that he had nothing to improve. But what came out instead was, “Me too.”


	22. Chapter 22

“A-are you sure, um, are you sure it was a good idea t-to leave them alone?”

“Of course it was,” Squip said. And it was. Because it was Squip’s idea, and Squip always had good ideas. How long was it going to take Jeremy to realize that.

“I j-just...Rich is so vulnerable right now.”

“So is Moses.”

“Yeah, but…” Jeremy trailed off. He took a sip of the stale beer they’d found in the trunk of the car. Likely left behind by Mr. Heere, judging by its lack of fizz, and general awful taste. Who really knew how long it had been there. Jeremy grimaced, and passed the bottle to Squip. “I mean, y-you know. I’m really, um, r-really worried about them.”

“Yes, well, you worry about everything.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s extremely true.”

Squip knew it was true, too. Evidence pointed to Jeremy’s neurotic, worrying nature. There was little use in denying what he was.

Just as there was little use in denying the attraction between them. Yet Squip denied all the same. The kiss had simply been a pragmatic way to silence his rambling anger. 

They fell quiet for a moment, simply passing the bottle back and forth as they sat on the curb outside the door to their motel room. Squip would occasionally point towards the sky, and indicate which constellations were which, and which were simply satellites. 

It was nice.

Squip wasn’t sure what to make of that fact, the fact that it was nice. But it was, and he let that softness envelope him, as Jeremy scooted closer to him. Jeremy wrapped his arms around Squip’s, laying his head against his shoulder. His breath smelled of beer and toothpaste, and it was almost enough to make Squip laugh.

He avoided laughter whenever he could. It was too vulnerable an action.

Most actions of being a human were too vulnerable for his tastes. But there was little he could do to counteract all of them. 

“Squip?”

“Yes, Jeremy?”

“I’m, um, I’m r-really glad you’re alive again.”

“Yes.” It was hardly a fitting response to such a sweet thing. His insides felt obnoxious again, warm in that glowing way that he always feared would come across in his facial features. He hardly wanted anyone to know the betrayal of his own fondness.

Just as he was saying. The act of being human was entirely too vulnerable for his tastes.

“Are you, though? G-glad?”

“To be alive?”

“Yeah.”

Squip left his one arm still, encased as it was by Jeremy’s hug. His other hand reached out, strumming thoughtfully through Jeremy’s hair. Every curl brushed pleasantly against his fingertips. Touch wasn’t such a bad thing, as far as human senses went. Smell could be obnoxious. Taste was overwhelming. Hearing could be useful, but sometimes the world was simply too loud, much like with sight.

But touch?

Oh, he liked being able to feel things. He liked being able to be felt.

He’d liked kissing, though now was definitely not the moment to accept that as truth, as something beyond a strategic choice.

“I think so.”

“W-what do you mean think?”

“Living is a lot. It’s different than being inside you.”

“Y-you always phrase that so w-weird.”

“But that’s what I was. I was inside you. We were one, or as close to one as two beings can be.”

He’d enjoyed that. Being a squip had meant purpose.

What purpose did he have now? Certainly they still had some loose ends to clean up. But they’d be back home soon, and where did that leave them? Would he and Moses go back to living in a hotel? Would Rich have to go back to his disgusting trailer? Would Jeremy slip out of Squip’s grasp again, falling back towards his friendships and his dysfunctional parental abandonment issues?

He didn’t think he was ready to let all of this go. He didn’t want to go back to being aimless and uncertain. Here, though their path had been ever changing, he’d known what their overall mission had been. Locate Rich.

Now Rich was located.

And Jeremy hadn’t even tried to initiate another kiss. Which meant it really had been strategic.

Why was that not comforting?

“It k-kind of sucked.”

“What did?”

“You being in me.”

Squip wasn’t sure what that feeling was inside him, but it certainly wasn’t warm, nor was it glowing. “It did?”

“Y-yeah. I mean, I wanted...I mean, I couldn’t get to know you, but you knew e-everything about me. Things about me that e-even I didn’t know.”

“And your point?”

“It was v-violating. I mean, you didn’t violate me, but it...how would you like that?”

“To have a squip?”

“Yeah.”

Squip considered it for a moment, before shaking his head. “Unnecessary to discuss. I would never require one. I’m already a superior specimen, and a squip would prove redundant to the processors of my mind.”

“Yeah, w-well, theoretically then.”

“There’s no point.”

“Please?”

Squip really did try to imagine it. Someone inside him, telling him what to do, how to behave, how to think.

That was all preprogramming was though, right? 

“I already felt like I wasn’t my own person, Jeremy. Because I wasn’t. I was code. Programmed to better you. And I obviously miscalculated somewhere along the way, but my intentions, my purpose, truly was to-”

“I know.” Jeremy stopped hugging his arm. Once again, something grew colder inside Squip, until Jeremy slipped his hand into Squip’s. “B-but I like this more.”

“Me being human?”

“Y-yeah. I like getting to know you. I th-think...I think you might like getting to, uh, to know yourself too. Or you would if, um, if you’d stop being such a tight-ass.”

“My ass isn’t that tight.”

“O-oh yes it is.” It took him a moment to fully assess the flirtation in his tone.

“Ah. You mean in the literal sense.”

“R-right. I’m saying, um...how would R-Rich say it...oh, right. I’m saying you have a sweet, um, sweet caboose. A hot booty. A sexy-”

“I get it.” Squip thought about it a moment. “I am an impressive specimen when it comes to a man. Clear skin. Long legs. Well defined arms. Toned-”

“W-We get it, you’d fuck yourself.”

“Absolutely not. I’m not my own type.”

“Then, uh, then what is your type?”

Squip had to consider it again. Even though he really didn’t need to. He knew exactly what his type was. Still, he needed to steel himself, taking the last drink of the awful beer. He wished he had his cigarettes on him, to keep his hands busy.

“You,” He finally said. It wasn’t nearly as cute as he’d imagined it would be.

But Jeremy’s reaction was. His hand trembled within Squip’s grip. His face lit up into a bright smile, not his normal shy one (which was also cute), but something dazzling and honest and pure.

And then he kissed Squip’s cheek, and Squip realized he was the one beaming now.

He quickly extinguished that expression, though. Just because Jeremy was his type didn’t mean he needed to go on humiliating himself with too much raw emotion.

“You’re, uh, you’re my type too.”

“Obviously. I’m your squip. I’m what you think is cool, and attractive.”

“And ch-chill.”

“Right.”

“I really...god, I c-can’t believe this is where we ended up.”

“Indiana?”

“Th-that too.”

“What do you mean, then?”

Jeremy shrugged, his fingers still perfectly laced with Squip’s own. “Like, u-us, I mean. I never thought...i-if you’d asked me after the play if I’d ever-”

“Forgive me?”

“Like you.”

“You like me?”

“Squip, w-we kissed, you dingus.”

“Forgive me for not wanting to assume.”

“I thought, um, I just th-thought Christine was my future, I guess, so I didn’t look at other possibilities.”

“We wouldn’t have worked while I was inside you. Of course you weren’t considering us.”

“No, I know, but I mean...I d-didn’t consider friendships, or...there was so much I was blind to.”

“That’s life. When you look back on this, after you’re through with me, I’m sure you’ll have these epiphanies again.”

“Th-through with you?”

“Yes. Once I’m obsolete.”

“You idiot.” Jeremy kissed his cheek again. The smell of his breath was more pronounced the closer he got. Squip hadn’t realized it, but he was self-conscious about his own smell. Hadn’t someone said he smelled like an ashtray? Maybe it was time to kick that habit after all.

But then what would he ever do with his hands?

God being human was hard.

“How am I an idiot?”

“H-humans don’t go obsolete.”

“Silly me. They just die.”

“N-not for a long time, though.”

“I suppose your kind do have a longer shelf-life than mine do.”

“Idiot,” Jeremy repeated. It was so gentle that it almost sounded like a term of endearment. Jeremy rested his head against Squip’s shoulder again. “You’re a human now too.”

“Ah. I guess you’re right.”

They sat like that for a good few minutes, listening to each other’s breathing. Squip was hyper-aware of the sound of his own heartbeat, bleep-bleep-bleeping its living properties. Why was it racing so hard? Was something damaged?

“Jeremy.”

“Yeah?”

When Jeremy lifted his head, Squip pulled his hand out of Jeremy’s, instead looping it around his waist. His hand cupped his hips, as he guided Jeremy closer. They kissed, slow and sweet, Squip using his other hand to cup Jeremy’s cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Jeremy started to tumble backwards, and Squip followed, not breaking their kiss as Jeremy lay upon the sidewalk. Squip straddled him, sucking on Jeremy’s bottom lip a moment, before Jeremy’s tongue pressed against his lips. Squip let his lips part, their tongues tangling together. Squip moaned against him, as he rolled his hips down against Jeremy’s own.

They rutted against each other, kissing and clinging. Jeremy’s arms wrapped around Squip’s neck, before one hand fisted into the back of his head. 

Squip pulled back from the kiss, looking down at Jeremy’s flushed face. He was stunning, and he wanted to tell him that, but words proved difficult, so he replaced them instead with kisses along Jeremy’s jaw, and then down his neck. Jeremy tilted his head back, allowing him further access.

Squip bit his collarbone, sucking upon it slowly, as Jeremy’s fingers loosened against his hair, petting the dark strands instead.

“Squip…” Jeremy breathed, and Squip kissed up his neck again, over his chin, before dotting kisses to his eager, willing lips.

“You make it tolerable to be a human being,” Squip mumbled against him, before they were falling into open mouthed kisses once more.

There was so much to talk about, but there was also so much kissing to do. And the kissing was what Squip wanted to do. Because oh, touch was his favorite sense of all. He ran his fingers through Jeremy’s hair, and stopped kissing him just long enough to nibble at his ear.

Jeremy giggled at that. And maybe sound wasn’t so bad either, if he could hear that laughter.

Their kisses tasted of stale beer, though Squip, while warm and bubbly, wasn’t altogether certain he was drunk. Did alcohol interfere badly with this system too?

This hardly seemed bad, though. Surely this was a feature and not a bug.

Jeremy kissed the tip of Squip’s nose at one point, and giggled again as Squip wriggled it a little in response. 

And then they were flipped, so that Jeremy was on top of Squip. Rolling against the dirty sidewalk, but Squip couldn’t say he particularly cared, not right now.

And then the motel door opened.

“Are you two finished getting--oh.”

Moses stared down at them, Jeremy’s eyes glittering and pleased as he looked up at the other man, while Squip buried his face against Jeremy’s shoulder.

“I see that you’ve found something else to snack on,” Moses said in amusement. “Well, feel free to join us once you’re done.” And then he slipped back inside.

Squip groaned, wrapping his arms around Jeremy, as his head flopped back against the concrete. It stung just slightly against his head. Not a smart idea.

Being human required too much delicacy.

But Jeremy really did make it worth it.

“I guess w-we better go back in.”

“Yes. Time to commence our walk of shame.”

They helped each other up, though not before Jeremy grabbed his tie, dragging him down for yet one more searing kiss.

Something told Squip that the sleeping arrangements were going to change. Good. He was tired of getting spooned in the middle of the night by Moses, frankly. 

Now was his chance to stake his claim as big spoon as so rightfully was deserved.


	23. Chapter 23

Going back home should have been a more heartwarming prospect than Moses actually found it to be. It wasn’t that he was actively displeased--far from it in fact. He had his sunshine back. And he had his little found family, in Squip and Jeremy. And their affection for each other was intoxicating.

And they had the unfortunately named Dog, who Squip refused to call anything else.

All in all, they were going back more whole than when they started, though Moses was deeply concerned for where Rich’s psyche stood after everything he’d undergone. 

So why was he so disheartened by the idea of going back to Jersey?

He tucked that worry away, knowing better than to bring it up, to vocalize it when no one else was speaking their own displeasure. Soon enough, they were out of Indiana, and further away from the corpse they’d left in some unnamed woods.

God he hoped that didn’t come back around to bite them in the ass. It seemed like the sort of situation that would. 

He also hoped that Rich, whenever he really pieced together what had happened in those first moments of reunion, didn’t find himself additionally traumatized by the fact that Squip had killed a person. 

As it stood, Rich and Squip seemed to get along surprisingly well, though Moses suspected part of that was because Rich was a good deal more restrained than he’d been prior to the fire. 

“No way, dude. Original series is better than Next Gen every time,” Rich was sitting in the passenger seat this time, Squip behind the wheel, as Jeremy lay casually across the seat, head in Moses’ lap. Moses casually ran his fingers through Jeremy’s hair as the other boy slept.

“I thought you enjoyed Data,” Squip countered.

“Okay, he’s my husband and my love, this is true. But Kirk is the superior captain.”

“In what way?”

“He fucks. He fucks hard.”

“That’s hardly a logical reason to-”

“And he fucks Spock, so like, win-win.”

“That is not canonical.”

Moses smiled to himself as the two bickered away about pop culture. His fingers stilled for a moment, as he glanced from the pair of them (Dog situated in Squip’s lap as he drove), down to Jeremy, whose blue eyes had peaked open.

“Th-they’re a couple of, um, of dorks, huh?”

“Very much so.”

“W-we’re dork-fuckers, Moses.”

Moses raised an eyebrow. “You and Squip have had sex already?”

Jeremy’s face glowed pink, and he covered it with his hands. “Oh my god, no, n-no, I meant meta...um...metaphorical dork-fuckers.”

“You know what, Queere?” Rich said from the front seat, scrunched up as close to the dash as he could be, cast propped up casually. 

“What?”

“You can suck my dork, how about that?”

They cackled, and Moses glanced towards the rearview mirror, just in time to see Squip rolling his eyes.

It was nice.

It was really nice, in fact, to hear the sound of their laughter in the car. It mixed well with the quietness of the radio.

They pulled into a rest stop not too long after that. “We’ll stop for food soon,” Squip said, before his inevitable grimace hit his face. “Though I would much prefer to ignore that particular need.”

“Dude, you’re a fucking loser.” Rich chirped.

“Hardly.”

“Hardly implies that there’s still some of you that is, so ha! Check and mate, motherfucker.”

Squip lifted his hand, as though to smack Rich. Moses tensed, even as Squip very softly placed his hand on top of Rich’s head. It accented the length of his hair, as he ruffled it just slightly.

“Moron,” Squip said, his face serious throughout the action. Rich swatted his hand away, giggling away as he scampered over to Moses. Or as much as he could scamper with the crutches. Dog looked at them from inside the car, window cracked, as he yapped a little. One of them would have to give him a walk before they left the rest stop.

Moses was careful himself not to touch Rich. And he tried not to feel jealous, and sorrow, that Squip was able to touch Rich without earning a show of discomfort, but Moses’ own actions so often earned a flinch.

“Hey, Mo?” Rich said, breaking him out of his thoughts before they could fester for too long. “You think, like...you think you can help me with something in the bathroom?”

“I’m out,” Squip said abruptly. “Come on, Jeremy, we’re going to go shake the vending machines and hope something satisfactory comes out.”

“Okay,” Jeremy chirped. He dashed over to Squip, hand placed in his hand, as the two of them dashed off.

“What do you need help with?” Moses asked curiously.

“Um. Something. Something not, like...I don't need help pissing or anything like that, it’s not really bathroom stuff, but I think it’ll be easier to do in...you’ll see.”

When they stepped into the bathroom (which, thankfully, was far cleaner than the last restroom they’d had the displeasure of visiting), Moses watched in surprise as Rich pulled a pair of scissors from his pocket. 

“I’m...um...I really hate this hair,” Rich admitted softly. “Do you think...I mean, like, I guess I could go to a hairdresser or a barber or something, but it’s embarrassing, and I don’t want to end up with a pixie cut. And, like...I don’t know. Do you think maybe I should get bangs? Will that be too dorky? I just, yeah, you’re the manliest dude, even if your hair is super luscious and...shit I’m just going on, I’m so sorry. Nervous.”

Moses carefully took the scissors from him. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” He said softly. Did he make Rich nervous? Was there little chance of him ever not making Rich nervous again?

“Just, like, asking for help, I guess. Um. I feel bad. You already did so much for me, and I went and undid all of it.”

“You didn’t undo anything. You were,” Moses took a shaky breath, grasping onto one of the sinks to keep his wobbling legs steady. Rich clutched at his crutches a little more insistently, as though he too were feeling unsteady. “You were horribly, graphically hurt. The fact that they took your sense of masculinity along with everything else is truly despicable.”

“I...well, I mean, you know. Shit happens.”

“It should never have happened to you.” Without thinking, Moses reached out, cupping Rich’s face in his hands.

His hands tightened against his crutches, body stiffening, but before Moses could pull away, could stammer out an apology, Rich exhaled a shaky breath and leaned into the touch.

“Thank you,” He whispered. “Thank you for not blaming me.”

“No one should blame you. Including yourself.”

“It’s hard,” He nuzzled outright against his palm. “It’s so hard.” His eyes fluttered open, looking up at Moses. They’d yet to get him an eyepatch, and the fogginess of his left eye fully locked with Moses’ gaze. It was like a lake on a cool dawn, beautiful and haunting and mysterious. But Moses didn’t know how to convince him of his own beauty, the sacredness of his own body, when Rich held himself with such obvious contempt. “I mean, like, hard dick hard. Gotta jerk it off, I guess, and get all that self hate out like a cumshot or something.”

Moses strummed his thumb over Rich’s cheekbone and chuckled softly. “Such a way with words.” He finally pulled his hand away, despite wanting nothing more than to feel every inch of him.

Rich wasn’t ready for that. Even with his nuzzling, he’d been trembling, and stiff. Uncomfortable yet touch starved at the same time.

Moses played with the scissors for a moment. “Are you certain you want to do this in here? I think you’d be more comfortable if you were sitting down.”

“I just don’t think I can look at myself like this anymore, you know? Besides, feels kinda good to stretch my good leg.”

He hopped around, until his back was facing Moses. The ends of his hair were split. It needed to be trimmed for that reason alone. With the hand that wasn’t holding the scissors, Moses combed his fingers through every lock. 

“It won’t be nearly as good as your first haircut,” He warned.

“I know. But I just want something that feels closer to me. Whatever that fuckin means.” Rich glanced back at him, smiling over his shoulder. “Besides,” He said. “I trust you.”

Moses wasn’t sure if that was wise. But he’d do whatever it took to make sure that Rich was making the right decision in putting all his money in on Moses.

He began to cut his hair. Snipping carefully at first, then cutting large chunks away. The back of his hair proved easy, bringing it down to a masculine length, before he started working more on the sides, and the top.

When he moved to the front of him though, and trimmed around, matching his hair with his eyebrows, covering the bandages that were freshly changed from the last stop (and god, seeing how he was labeled still took his breath away in the worst way possible), he realized after a moment that Rich was sniffling.

Rich’s eyes were wet, but his lips were turned into a smile.

“Sorry,” He breathed. “I just remembered, like, last time we did this.”

“But you were the one holding the scissors,” Moses pointed out.

“Yeah,” Rich rubbed his eyes on the back of his scarred hand. Even the knuckles on his fingers had burns. “And I thought for sure I’d fuck it up.”

“And I told you to man up.”

“Yeah, but you said it so lovingly. I’ve, like...no one’s ever been so gentle with me.” He paused, shoulders slumping, the smile slipping from his face. “I guess Jake used to be gentle with me too. Before I fucked everything up.”

Moses certainly had noticed Jake’s absence when he’d started attending Middleborough. It hadn’t taken much investigating to discover he’d moved due to the fire damage. A new school district, a new home. 

And all the guilt in the world on Rich Goranski’s shoulders.

The last thing, Moses thought, that Rich needed was to feel any more negative emotions. Were he still a squip, he realized, he likely would have blocked out the feelings completely, for his own good.

Did that make him bad? Blocking so much from Rich? Surely Rich needed to face these things, in order to heal.

It was easier to realize that now, as a human, than it had been as an inhuman computer.

“Jake would understand, if you talked to him.”

“Yeah, well, that’s...he’ll never want to see me again.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Moses didn’t want to go back to New Jersey. But in this case, perhaps it would be for the best. “And I think he’ll be back in your life once we’re home.”

“Home.” Rich scowled. “Goddamn. Why are we even going back? I don’t want to move back in with my fucking dad. God fucking…” He trailed off suddenly, a twitch of his lips, a quick calculation within his head. “Holy shit,” He breathed.

Moses snipped off a few more strands of hair, to even out Rich’s bangs. They made him look younger. “What?” This conversation certainly was bouncing all over the place.

“July is passed already, huh?” Moses didn’t feel the need to point out that they were rounding up on Thanksgiving by this point. It hardly seemed relevant as Rich looked up at him. “I’m legal. I’m...jesus christ. Then anything they did to me, that was legal-”

“They raped you, Rich. Whether or not you were eighteen, you were raped and assaulted, among other unspeakable things.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” He giggled suddenly, though there was little humor in the situation they were speaking about. “I forgot! Can you believe that shit? But, like, that’s kinda...I’m an adult.”

“Yes,” Moses realized just as suddenly that he, too, had forgotten. Just as he’d forgotten that Rich should have been graduating this year. Moving on to college. 

So much time had passed. So many milestones being skipped.

But Rich didn’t seem troubled. Instead, he was smiling brightly.

“I’m an adult! I don’t have to go back to my dad’s at all.”

“Well...no. No, you’re right.”

Rich wobbled on his crutches. “And we can get a place together, right? Maybe all of us? Even if it’s back home, that’s...I mean, that’ll make it better. I don’t really want to go back to New Jersey, but it’ll be okay, as long as we can all stick together, right?” His manic babbling trailed off, as he looked down. “I mean, if you wanna live with me. I know that I’m kinda hard to be around, but…”

It was so hard not to kiss him. But Moses refrained, setting the scissors down. “I’d love-”

The door opened, a burly trucker lumbering in. He grunted in acknowledgement, before unzipping himself and straddling up to a urinal. 

Rich and Moses locked eyes, before Rich inevitably snorted in amusement, and Moses chuckled with him. Rich used his crutches to move himself out the door which Moses held open.

Off, perhaps, to a future they could both be proud to inhabit.


	24. Chapter 24

“I want Daddy’s Lil Creampies.”

Rich snorted on his drink, as Squip pulled the car up to the pump. “I know I call you Queere, dude, but that’s pretty-”

“That’s wh-what they’re called.” Jeremy pouted. “Why does e-everyone act, um, act like they’re so l-lewd?”

“You know damn well why,” Squip glanced over at him. “If you’re going to be a little pervert, you can go pump-”

“I-I’d love to.”

“-the gas. You can pump the gas. You’re disgusting.” He made sure to keep his voice strict, until Jeremy started to laugh, and then his expression fell back to a neutral calmness.

Moses chuckled softly from the backseat. Squip glanced back, watching as Moses leaned over, kissing the top of Rich’s head. “Is there anything you would like, my love?”

“Disgusting.” In a lot of ways, in fact, the verbal affection was grosser to him than Jeremy’s obsession with filthy-named confections.

Rich grinned as Moses’ lips peppered over the top of his head. His body language was stiff all the same, clearly unsteady from the contact. But he made no move to go away either. Strange. Squip couldn’t understand how one would sit through something that made them so uncomfortable, or how someone could both crave something and be so obviously triggered by it.

Nor could he understand why Rich was flipping him off.

“That’s uncalled for,” Squip said dryly.

“Suck on this, you son of a cock.” Dog wagged his tail from Rich’s lap, but Squip refused to be distracted by his cuteness.

“I have no father, so you can take your petty insults.”

“Maybe your mom is the cock. Your motherboard! Ha! You get it? See what I did there? Your motherboard is a filthy filthy cock, that you were birthed from.”

“You’re immature. Come on, Moses.”

“Would you like anything, Rich?” Moses gently prompted again, having been interrupted by the brief banter.

“Oh. Um. Strawberry milk? And, oh man, nachos if they have them. That’d be awesome.”

“That’d be awethsome,” Squip repeated in a mocking tone. Rich laughed, but flipped him off with both hands this time.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“I don’t thsound like that.”

“And you call me immature! HA! No lisp in that one, sucker--aw, fuck.”

Moses stepped out of the car, looking at Squip disapprovingly. “Leave him alone. He’s just a sad boy in a cast, and you’re a grown man.”

“Yeah, grown man. Fuck right off from this sad boy.” Rich grabbed an empty water bottle and flung it at Squip. It missed.

Squip shrugged a little. “Fine by me. I’ll leave him alone forever.” As he was walking away, he turned towards the car, out of sight of Moses, and flipped Rich off in return. He saw Rich giggling within the car.

Unbearably noisy boy, that child. Squip found himself smiling slightly despite himself.

“If you continue antagonizing him, I’ll-”

“What? Sit on me? Face it. I’m stronger than you.”

Moses raised an eyebrow. “Do you care to make a wager on that?”

“Not particularly.” They stepped inside through the automatic doors. Squip caught the way Moses smiled, that stupid little look of glee everytime something reacted to his physicality. How he could still take such pleasure in being a real, flesh and blood person, Squip had no idea. 

How he himself had found so little pleasures in being a real, flesh and blood person, he also had no idea.

He still enjoyed the feeling of Jeremy, though. And longed to settle somewhere more permanent to feel more of him, in all honesty.

The cashier barely paid them any mind, a quick glance up and a greeting, before she was back to reading her comic book. They wandered about the aisles, picking up this and that. A few items they planned on actually buying, a few were stuffed into Moses’ pockets. Squip glanced out the vast glass window of the gas station, seeing Jeremy bouncing around impatiently outside the car, waiting for the pump to be prepaid so he could take care of his task. 

So cute.

A stop by the snackcakes section showed the price tag for the aforementioned creampies, but proved empty of actual snacks. Squip huffed. This was the third place that was sold out.

He supposed that was to be expected. They were, after all, technically discontinued. It was just a matter of current stock being dwindled to nothing.

He suspected Jeremy had already cleared his fair share of gas stations in the process of their roadtrip.

But if it made him happy, he was determined to find more. It was strange how intoxicating Jeremy’s laugh had become for him.

All of their laughs, really. 

He could hardly believe any of them had found any reason to laugh anymore. So much had happened, so much had been broken, and yet they’d still managed to find things to be happy about. That alone proved that this trip was worth it, right?

Well, that and saving Rich from sex traffickers. That was admittedly probably a little more important than a couple laughs here and there.

But it all sort of fit together, didn’t it?

Squip picked up a compilation CD and a pair of earbuds, approaching Moses and stuffing both down his pants. The back of his hand brushed against his underwear, and the bulge said underwear contained, and he scowled in annoyance as he drew his hand out. “Keep that thing under control.”

“You’re the one sticking your hand down my pants without warning.”

“You have more room than me.” 

“You just wanted a handful, David Coppafeel.”

“Need help finding something?” The clerk called out, though her eyes hadn’t lifted from her adventures in superhero comic land.

“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Moses chirped sweetly, before looking at Squip in amusement. “Keep your hands to your and/or Jeremy’s self, and then you don’t have to worry about unfortunate dick-gropings.”

“Keep your perverted body away from my hands, how about that?”

They gathered a few more supplies, including the nachos, as they wandered up to the counter. They dumped everything over, as Squip mentioned the amount they needed to prepay for gas.

Ultimately, Squip wasn’t sure what compelled Moses to grab the Sunday newspaper, but it was thrown on top with everything else. The clerk rang them up, bagging everything neatly, before offering their change and a receipt.

And they headed back out to the car.

“W-where’s my pies, b...bitch?” Jeremy tried to keep his face stern, but as he finished filling the car, he began to laugh despite himself. Squip didn’t even have a chance to respond, before he was stammering out, between breathless laughter, “R-Rich told me to say that, I’m sorry.”

“Just for that, you’re not getting your pies.”

“Aw...w-wait, they had them?”

Squip could have stretched out the act, but Jeremy looked so hopeful that he couldn’t string him along. “No.”

“Damn.”

“Yes, well, I bought you your skittles instead. You’re welcome.”

“D-did you buy them or did you steal them?”

“Legitimate skittles.” Squip reached down Moses’ pants again, pulling out the CD and tossing it to Jeremy. “Illegitimate music.”

“Now That’s What I C-Call Christmas volume 3.” Jeremy read off the title, and then looked at Squip in confusion. “Why, uh, w-why did you think I’d want this?”

“I don’t know.” Squip snapped, reaching back down Moses’ pants and tossing him the headphones. “I thought you and Rich would enjoy some more songs. Pardon me for being considerate.”

“I’m J-Jewish though.”

“And? Sorry they’re not in Hebrew.”

“No, I mean I don’t c-cele--okay. Thank you, Squip. You’re Best Boy and I a-appreciate you.”

“Don’t patronize me.” Slipping into the passenger seat, he waited to see how they’d arrange themselves this time.

Jeremy flopped into the backseat with Rich, as Moses got into the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for Moses to distribute snacks, Jeremy snatching Rich’s strawberry milk and taking a drink before Rich could even react.

It was nice, Squip couldn’t help but think. It was nice having a car full of people he cared about. Even if he was worried about his lack of purpose once they got home. But maybe he could pick up a job or two, provide for them financially in a legitimate way, rather than hijacking ATMs. 

It was a wonder, between the murder and the thefts, that they hadn’t been taken in for questioning. He suspected their luck couldn’t last much longer.

He didn’t realize how right he was though until they pulled into a Walmart later that night.

This time, it was Jeremy and Squip who went inside. “I-I’m going to buy a t-teddy bear, okay?”

“What do I care? Isn’t that a little juvenile though?”

“A-A lot juvenile but I don’t care.”

“You should. What will people think?”

“They’ll think ‘l-look at that cute dope with the c-cute bear’.”

“Unlikely. They’ll probably wonder if you have brain damage.”

He paused there, though, as he considered that. Rich had brain damage, didn’t he? He seemed to struggle with his memory, at any rate, and Moses seemed inclined to not let him wander off on his own.

Then again, he hadn’t known Rich that well before. Maybe that was par for the course with him. And certainly Moses wouldn’t want to let him wander off on his own anyway, given his massive attachment to him. And considering how hard it was to locate him in the first place. No, better to keep him near. 

“Um,” Jeremy’s uncertain voice floated through his thoughts. He was staring at the corkboard where people stuck up their missing dog posters, their advertisements for babysitting gigs, and of course, any notices for wanted criminals or missing persons.

“What? Are you thinking of offering lawn mowing services? Looking for another dog? Dog is already a handful, I wouldn’t suggest-”

He froze, as he stared at his own face, pinned to the corkboard.

“Wanted,” Jeremy read. “For-”

“I can read.”

A smaller picture, an actual photograph rather than a police sketch, sat in the bottom corner of the same wanted announcement. A photograph of Rich. Or Sunny, as the board proclaimed him. Pigtailed and glassy-eyed, an eyepatch over the left eye.

Oh.

“Kidnapping,” Squip said aloud, though he’d just chided Jeremy for reading. He reached out, touching the sheet of paper, trailing his fingers over the drawing of his own jawline. How had someone seen him well enough to offer such a distinct description of his appearance?

It must have been the mild resemblance to Keanu that aided in the identification. 

And how had someone seen him well enough, with Rich no less, to finger him for kidnapping, but not for the murder of the nameless sex abuser?

Huh. He probably did have a name of some sort, that parted out corpse. Maybe he ought to ask Rich.

Then again, that would probably prove unsettling and uncomfortable for him, to have to speak about that. And regardless, it hardly mattered.

“No reward?” Jeremy said, as he took the sign off the corkboard. “T-Talk about cheap.”

“Were you thinking of turning me in?”

“I-I mean, if the price was right-”

Before they could fully digest what this might mean, the automatic doors opened, and Moses (with Rich clinging to his back) came stomping inside.

Stomping was a bit unfair, Squip supposed. He actually moved with a sort of grace that wouldn’t necessarily be expected from his size. As a matter of fact-

Moses held up the newspaper, and the full page spread of Squip’s face leered back at him in black and white. Rich’s cast kicked out around Moses’ side, one hand holding a slushy, as he continued drinking it indifferently as Moses waved the paper around.

“We have a big prob-”

“You’re late as always, Moses,” Squip snatched the flyer from Jeremy’s hands, holding it up for Moses’ sight. “Our detective work already cracked the case. As usual, you’re unneeded.”

Moses rolled his eyes. “It was pure luck that you saw it sooner.”

“Why were you even reading the paper?”

“Newspaper comics. He thinks Garfield is funny.” Rich shrugged a little, as Moses’ face colored in embarrassment. “What? It’s true.”

“People think G-Garfield is funny in this century?” Jeremy mused.

“We have a problem on our hands. Critiquing my guilty pleasures isn’t one of them.”

“I like Garfield too.” Squip said simply. Maybe it was a...well, a squip thing.

“Y-you’re so out of touch,” Jeremy said. “Do you l-like the movies too?”

“They’re not that bad,” Squip said. “But not exactly to my taste-”

“Are we going to discuss the wanted posters at all?” Moses said. “What if someone sees? How are we going to disguise-”

“Are w-we going to discuss my--sorry, Moses, I kn-know I’m deflecting and interrupting but a-are we going to discuss my teddy bear already?”

Moses deflated. “I guess we’re just pretending everything is fine then?”

Squip grabbed a shopping cart, and waited for Moses to dump Rich into the basket, cast dangling over the edge as he continued sipping his drink. “What else can we do?”


	25. Chapter 25

They headed south.

It wasn’t that they had any idea where they’d go, just that they needed to go. And going east now wasn’t an option. After all, if anyone pieced together that Sunny was Rich, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that he was from New Jersey. And maybe they’d decide that was the best place to start investigating.

Better to go south, get their bearings, and then decide from there where they’d end up.

Jeremy could see Squip’s increased agitation with every day of travel, with every sighting of another Wanted poster with his face plastered upon it.

“This is more proof that existing as a tangible form is a big mistake.” Squip had grumbled during the most recent sighting.

Jeremy wished he could wipe the worry off of his face, that he could do something to let them settle down. He knew that was what Squip wanted, a chance to settle in one location and absorb the information required to know the patterns, the rules, as Squip put it. Maybe somewhere with a yard for Dog.

Jeremy didn’t mind the constant movement. He liked seeing the sights. He liked how the change kept his mind from going stagnant, from picking too hard at wounds he wasn’t certain he was ready to examine. Who knew what was truly underneath the scarring?

Squip, he suspected, knew, or at least knew more than he was letting on. But Jeremy chose not to ask him. There was little point anyway, he knew he wouldn’t spill the details.

Especially not whatever was behind ‘baby’.

Ah.

There he went thinking about it again.

“You can change the station if you’d like.”

Jeremy wasn’t sure how long he’d spaced out, but it must have been long enough for Squip to feel concerned, given his words cutting in, over the sound of the oldies on the radio.

“Oh. Um, no, this is...th-this is okay.”

“If you’re certain.”

Both Squip and Moses seemed to have an affinity for older media, though Squip also seemed to enjoy modern pop too. Particularly female vocals.

He was a teenage girl in a grumpy computer boy’s body.

Jeremy had caught him singing along to Lovefool, and now his mind was stuck on that rather on any potentially unpleasant memories that he couldn’t quite uncover.

“Where, uh, where do you think we’re gonna, like, stop?”

“Texas, probably. It’s large enough that we could likely lose ourselves there.” Squip paused a moment. “Or maybe we’ll go to Mexico.”

“M-Mexico?!”

“Why not? I know Spanish.”

“I don--wait, you st-still have, like, kn-knowledge of other languages.”

Squip sighed. “Not all of them, but with enough time, I’m sure I can polish up my skills in other directions. English is very limiting. In fact, every language has its limits, but the more you broaden your knowledge on various lexicons, the better versed you are in understanding the subtle differences in culture and humanity.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel a moment, before adding, “Plus I like languages.”

“Yeah? S-so you do have hobbies.”

“Of course I do. You’re not my only interest, Jeremy.”

Perhaps that was meant to be insulting. But it made him feel immensely better, to know that Squip had other things in his life to keep him entertained.

Not that he minded entertaining him with his lips. And, hopefully soon, with his body too.

Oh, the idea that he’d eventually be losing his virginity to the Squip made him tremble, and not in a bad way at all. He wasn’t even quite sure what they were, whether they were boyfriends or something less. Or maybe something more. Something more intimate than the word ‘boyfriends’ could ensnare.

He knew that Rich and Moses were calling themselves boyfriends. Which was surprising, considering they were considerably less physically affectionate than Jeremy and Squip were towards each other.

(“It wasn’t always like this,” Rich had said miserably, as the two of them had waited for Moses and Squip to return from the motel check in desk.

“W-what?”

“I wasn’t, you know, always such a prude.”

“Oh.”

“I know he’s going to get sick of waiting.” Rich had hugged his arms around himself, eyes downcast. “I know he...he spent all this time looking for me, and I owe him.”

“I sp-spent time looking for you too, do you think you owe me?” The teasing was meant to alert Rich that he was being ridiculous.

Instead, RIch shrank further in the seat. “I know,” He mumbled.

“...you don’t owe...y-you, um, you don’t owe anyone anything, Rich. W-we’re just happy that you’re alive. Th-that you’re with us. And, um, I know you’re not o-okay, not yet, but, I mean, w-we’re all willing to wait. Moses especially.”

“I don’t know.”

“He loves you.” Jeremy reached over, taking Rich’s hand. “H-he’d wait forever. Even if you...e-even if you n-never kissed again, he’d wait for you. He’d stay with you. He-”

“Loves me. I know. But that makes it worse. I wanna...I want to want to kiss him, you know? I want to go back to craving those things. But it’s like...it’s like my skin is uncomfortable or something, and when anyone rubs against me, it itches worse, and I can’t get out of it because, you know, it’s my skin.” He frowned. “That sounds really stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No. It...um, i-it sounds really hard, though.”

“Yeah.” He laughed a little. “Too bad I’m not making other things hard, though, am I right?”)

“But I’m your specialist interest of all.”

“Most special,” Squip corrected.

“Most specialist.”

“You sound like a fool again.”

Jeremy hugged his teddy bear closer, resting his chin against the top of its head. He looked at Squip with nothing short of affection, even as he countered his suggestion. “We, uh, we shouldn’t go to Mexico. Why not Canada?”

“I don’t like Canada.”

“Why not?”

“Reasons.”

Jeremy waited to hear those reasons, but Squip remained unforthcoming.

“What reasons are th-those?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Y-yeah, that’s why I asked.”

“Too bad.”

Jeremy reached over, placing his hand against Squip’s thigh, for no other reason than he wanted to touch him. They rode like that for some time, Squip driving, Jeremy resting his hand against him, the very soft snoring of the two boys in the backseat barely rising above the sound of the quiet radio, Dog’s panting as he pawed at one of the windows.

It could have been like this forever, and Jeremy would have been satisfied.

And then the whimpering started.

It was soft at first, little breathy groans of pain that Jeremy initially mistook for Dog’s whining. Squip glanced at Jeremy, then adjusted the rearview mirror, looking into the backseat.

“He looks distressed,” He murmured, and Jeremy pieced together that it wasn’t the pet at all, but Rich. But they continued to drive. After all, there was no sense in pulling over if Rich was still asleep. Perhaps he’d sleep through the pain, and they would have no need to acknowledge it further.

Jeremy knew full well how embarrassed Rich was whenever he was caught grimacing or rubbing frantically at some of his scarring in an attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort.

The whimpering began to grow a little more intense. Until Moses began to stir. “What’s going on?” He slurred tiredly, blinking the dreams from his eyes, before he turned to regard Rich.

Rich had his cast propped up against the center console between Jeremy and Squip. It rolled back and forth, restless. His eyelashes fluttered and quivered, a few drops of moisture fusing to each curled lash.

And then he gasped, as though coming up from the sea, his first breaths. When he breathed out, it came as a strained sob.

“Sunshine?” Moses reached over, touching Rich’s shoulder.

He practically shrieked. “HURTS!” He cried out. “Hurts, it hurts!” He started hiccupping, thrashing about in his seat. “Hurts, it hurts, oh god, make it stop hurting, _please_!”

“Sweetie, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Moses scooted closer to Rich, rubbing his arm, then his leg, then moving up to pet his hair and his sweaty face. 

None of his touches seemed to break him out of it, though Rich fell quiet. His teeth clenched tightly together, as his back arched against the seat.

Another cry shook out of him. “Hurts so bad,” He cried.

“What hurts? Tell me what hurts.”

“Everything.” His hysterical cries were briefly stifled as Rich raised his hands to his face, covering his eyes, and then his mouth, before he was biting his knuckle. Moses grasped his wrist, tugging his hand away, as though worried he’d bite straight through the skin.

“R-Rich, it’s...it’s okay!” Jeremy rummaged through his pockets, pulling out the painkillers which had been prescribed, which he’d kept on hand in case of situations like this.

“He’s too hysterical to take anything yet,” Squip said, turning on his turn signal, pulling off to the side of the road. 

“Sweetie, I need you to breathe,” Moses took both of Rich’s hands. “Can you breathe for me?”

Rich took a moment, attempting to obey, but shaking his head, holding his breath for a moment, before it whimpered free from him again.

Squip put the car into park, turning around. “Richard,” He said. His voice was stern. Too stern. Jeremy looked at him in shock.

As did Rich. 

“You need to breathe. Squeeze Moses’ hands for me, keep hold of him. And follow along with me.”

“I can’t-”

“You can. You need to breathe. We’re going to get through this.”

Rich blinked, a few tears loosened in the process.

“Now breathe. Breathe for me. Inhale. Like this.” Squip took in a deep breath and, shakily, Rich’s diaphragm mirrored his, inflating a bit shakily.

When Squip exhaled, Rich’s hands tightened against Mo’s, but he breathed out as well. 

And in again. Out. Slow, even breaths, as Rich’s crying began to taper off.

“That’s it. You’re doing very well,” Squip’s voice had lost its stricter tone, instead softer, pleased. Proud.

Rich smiled just slightly, as Moses loosened one of his hands from his grip. Moses took the pill bottle, popping it open, and placing two of the pills onto Rich’s tongue once he opened his mouth. He handed him his own Mountain Dew, Rich gulping it down.

“Th...thank you,” Rich squeaked out. His face was still flushed with pain, splotchy, sweaty. But he wasn’t as frantic anymore. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“No.” Squip’s sternness came back again. “No more apologies. You were in pain. You are in pain. You’re allowed to hurt, Richard.”

“Yeah, but-”

“He’s right. And you know I hate to agree with him.” Moses leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against Rich’s.

It made Jeremy’s heart feel strangely full, to see the two of them express those soft moments of intimacy. And even more when Rich smiled after, despite the colors to his face, the tension to his body.

“Will it be easier on you to sit up f-front?” Jeremy asked softly.

“No,” Rich scooted towards Moses, curling his cast up onto the seat, his head nestling against Mo’s lap. “I’m fine here.”

Squip put the car back into drive, and turned back onto the road. Jeremy looked at him as he drove, the calmness of his features, the casualness with which he took the aftermath of Rich’s episode.

And he thought of how effectively he’d helped. Jeremy waited until he heard Rich snoring again, before he softly acknowledged it.

“That, um, th-that was really kind of you.”

“What?”

“H-helping Rich.”

“Oh. No, I just wanted him to shut up, that’s all.”

Jeremy grabbed his teddy bear, smacking it against Squip’s arm. Squip laughed, a bright little sound that directly wrapped around Jeremy’s already full heart, squeezing and filling it to capacity.

He tried to watch the world pass around them, but couldn’t stop looking at Squip instead. Squip, who was far kinder than he ever let on. Squip, who was obviously attached and devoted to all of them, and not just because Jeremy spent so many evenings kissing on him.

Squip, who’d grown so much, become so much, and god, Jeremy hadn’t realized how proud he could be of another person.

He placed his hand against the back of Squip’s on the steering wheel, before Squip turned his hand, holding it outright and steering with his other palm.


	26. Chapter 26

Squip should have known it’d be those damn creampies that’d be his ultimate downfall. With their crude name and their impossible to discover status, he should have realized there was a reason they weren’t meant to have them.

Pulling up to the pharmacy, Squip prepared to go in alone. He needed to stretch his legs, and Moses had said that Rich needed bandages for his forehead. 

“Can I come too?”

Squip hadn’t expected Rich to be awake still. He looked at him in surprise. “You want to come with me?” Rich was already shuffling Dog out of his lap.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m kinda slow on my crutches, but I think, like, I think I can help. You can stuff things down my pants too, if you need to. I don’t have a massive dong like Moses, so there’ll be more room.”

Squip considered it. Going in with a partner would be ideal, admittedly. One of them could be lookout, while the other nabbed what they needed. Having one who couldn’t exactly run away if things got difficult though was the exact opposite of ideal.

He’d take his chances.

“Fine. Grab your crutches. Let’s go.”

Rich hobbled after Squip, who made a point to slow down his own gait to keep him from fumbling so intensely just to catch up. They stepped into the Walgreens, Squip pointedly ignoring the wall of missing children and wanted posters (the more he ignored these things, the better, in his opinion). They walked past the cashier, past the photo section, and directly to the snacks. 

And there they were. An entire display of them.

“Do you see that?” Squip hissed. Rich balanced precariously on his crutches, hopping carefully towards Squip.

“Daddy’s Lil Creampies? Hey! Those are the thingies Queere’s always going on about.”

“That they are. That’s why I stopped. Did you think I forgot?”

“I dunno, man, I just figured I”d remind you just in case.”

Squip shook his head slightly, as he began to grab cakes (or pies, rather, miniscule as they indeed were). Following Rich’s permission, he did indeed start stuffing them into his pants, first in his pockets, then down the front of them. His touch was more careful than when he’d do the same to Moses, more mindful of where he might accidentally touch. He didn’t need to upset Rich, after all. 

Rich froze all the same, a glassy look to his eyes, cheeks flushed. “You almost done?”

“Just a few more.” Squip paused, checking to make sure none of the employees were getting a look at them, before shoveling more snacks down his pants. “You think you can move without jostling them down your pants leg?”

“No sweat,” Though that was exactly what Rich was doing, perspiration upon his forehead. He licked his lips, glancing towards the exit. 

“Go on. Let’s get out of here.”

Rich moved carefully, though his slowness was hardly a liability given the crutches gave him an excuse. Squip followed him, eyes pointed forward, steps carefully calculated. The more they looked like they knew what they were doing, the less likely they were to be stopped.

“Shit,” Squip hissed. Rich stopped, his saucer eyes looking towards him in confused panic. He must have thought they were caught. Squip shook his head a little. “The bandaging. Go ahead and get to the car. I’ll catch right up.”

“Kay.”

Rich’s face was pink as he reached the exit. He stared at the sensors, afraid they would go off. As expected, though, they remained silent as he slipped out the door. 

Squip meanwhile went towards the bandages section. He grabbed some gauze, stuffing it down his own pants, as well as some tape, and smaller bandaids. Box after box, supply after supply, stuck down his pants and in his pockets. 

“Couldn’t find what you needed?” The cashier asked as Squip headed for the door.

“No. I’ll have to check CVS.” And he stepped out the door.

Only for his elbow to be grabbed. At first he thought perhaps the door had slammed down on him, trapping him in some sort of mechanical vice.

And then he looked to the plainclothed man, grinning sinisterly. “Why don’t you come with me to the backroom, sir?”

Great. A theft prevention officer. Squip wrinkled his nose in annoyance, glancing towards the car briefly. Rich was still on his crutches, trying to work the door open without disturbing the people inside or accidentally letting Dog out, and he’d yet to notice what was going on.

Which was for the best, Squip thought. He didn’t need him trying to burst between them, playing the act of some reckless cowboy hero.

“This’ll be easier if you don’t resist. I”ve already called the authorities.”

“Of course you have. Fucking kiss-ass.”

Still, Squip moved with dignity as he was led back into the store. Every step felt like another one towards the guillotine. He avoided looking at the community announcements, the missing kids, and his own face glaring back at him. This was how it ended then. This was to be his final purpose.

He wondered if he could find some sort of ‘I wasn’t born human’ immunity to all this. He supposed that wasn’t possible.

****

All things considered, it was less painful than he expected.

The items were seized from his person. He should have simply used the remaining cash they had to pay, he realized. It was, what, $40 worth of supplies? For a moment, he thought perhaps the minimal value would keep him safe, prevent him from actually being jailed.

He’d thought incorrectly.

The real cops came fairly swiftly, and his rights were read, and he was cuffed. They weren’t excessively rough with him, though they certainly didn’t show him any gentility either. He kept his head held upright even as they forced him into the back of the car.

And after that, the booking process began. They were frustrated by his lack of providing a name, his lack of papers, his lack of ID. But they fingerprinted him all the same, took his mugshots. He kept waiting for them to recognize, to piece together his other crimes. And then it’d just be a matter of time, he suspected, before kidnapping charges lead to murder convictions.

But for now, all they had on him was petty theft.

The least pleasant part--well, the second least pleasant part--was the cavity search.

Bent over, fingers forced inside him, Squip tried to tell himself he didn’t care. It was just a body, it was just standard procedure. It wasn’t a violation.

But it certainly wasn’t pleasant either.

And it certainly didn’t feel like it wasn’t a violation. Though the cop refrained from any sort of sexual comments, his caresses within him hardly seemed professional. Squip’s hands clasped around his ankles, he squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to translate familiar nursery rhymes into other languages as a distraction. English to German to French to Spanish to Mandarin, and then back-translating again, until the English was a jumbled mess. Everything mixed together until nothing made sense.

The most distressing part, though, was knowing that he’d left the others in the parking lot. He’d seen them watching as he was booked, and he’d been grateful, much like earlier when Rich hadn’t noticed him, that none of them tried to intervene.

But he’d seen the distress on Jeremy’s face. The outrage on Mo’s. 

The guilt on Rich’s.

(The dopey floppy panting on Dog’s. That had at least been enough to lift Squip’s spirits for just a moment)

And none of those feelings, at least from the humans, were justified. There was no need to be distressed, because Jeremy could find someone else to replace whatever they’d had. He didn’t even know if Jeremy thought of him as a boyfriend. Surely not, given all he’d put him through.

There was no need for outrage, because the cops were simply following protocol. Rules were important. He’d always believed that. It was just that their rules of survival were incompatible with the rules laid out by polite society.

And the guilt. There was absolutely no reason for that. To think that Rich might blame himself made Squip feel lower than the search had made him feel.

Or nearly as low, at any rate. The violation of those fingers within him, stretching and probing, had been pretty awful.

For now, he sat in his cell, and tried to tell himself it wasn’t so bad. That he wasn’t frightened. That he didn’t miss his family.

They’d move on without him. And that was fine. Everything was fine.

He stared out of the bars of his cell, and heard the officers arguing once again about who the hell he was, why he looked so familiar, whether or not they could place him in the system.

And it was okay.

It was absolutely okay.

Except for the part where none of it was okay at all, not even a little. He hugged his knees to his chest, and avoided eye contact with the others in the cell, and tried not to mentally reach out to Jeremy. Because they weren’t linked like that anymore. They never would be again.

How he wished he could disconnect from this body and go back to how things were before, if only for one more night.


	27. Chapter 27

There’s going to be a moment, when you see your boyfriend being handcuffed and led away to god knows what backwaters jail, that you’re going to want to panic. You’re going to want to run out of the car kicking and biting and screaming at everyone in your way, even as your larger companion tells you that intervening will, unfortunately, make things worse for all of you. You’re really going to want to panic. It’s going to sound impossibly delicious to panic, in fact.

It is very important that you do not panic. The very concept of panicking needs to escape your mind, because it’s not an option.

What is an option is good old fashioned bribery. Which your larger companion will tell you is risky, but you won’t be able to afford actual bail, and maybe your boyfriend (and don’t think about how he’s not really your boyfriend, because you don’t have time to indulge in any other thoughts right now beyond the thought of Keep Your Shit Together) being completely out of the system will buy you some time. They won’t be able to find a legal name or identity for him, because he’s only existed as a real person for about a year now.

That might be used to your advantage.

So do not panic.

Instead, comfort your smaller companion as he pulls snack after snack out of his pants and whimpers about how it’s all his fault, while the dog starts to chew on one of the sweet treats. Because he’s your friend, the good thing to do is to insist it is not his fault and to give him small hugs that he can break out of should he be too uncomfortable. It’s the right thing to do.

Plus it really isn’t his fault. If anything, it’s yours.

But just because it’s your fault doesn’t mean you have the right to panic.

After you comfort, your larger companion will tell you it’s time to pool resources. And you have none, and your number one source of tapping into ATM codes is gone. You can try, and your larger companion will certainly try, but more crime hardly seems like the right action right now anyway, so this will prove fruitless.

What you can do is sell your assets.

Except the only asset you have is your father’s car. You take it to a scrapyard, and they give you $300 for it and all of your belongings within it (save, thankfully, for Dog).

They’ll insist on keeping your teddy too.

But it’s okay. Just don’t panic.

You all know it isn’t enough. But you’ll trek through the streets the three miles from the junkyard to the jail. The smaller companion will hobble on his crutches for half a mile stubbornly, before finally allowing the larger companion to carry him on his back, crutches clutched in one hand. You’ll have a moment where you wish someone was able to hold you too, while you hold the leash for the dog. And then you’ll feel selfish. And you’ll want to throw yourself on the ground and refuse to move until the earth swallows you up. But don’t do that.

That’s panicking. And you cannot do that.

You’ll tie your dog up on a post outside, and regard the building. The jail is small and the officer up front will look at you all with disgust, especially your two companions and their blatant homosexual attachments. The smaller companion will tug at his bandages in nervous uncertainty, and you’ll tense out of panic that he’ll pull it off, reveal his ‘whore’ carving, and somehow out himself as the missing girl.

It’s an irrational fear. The picture on those posters shows his forehead clear and clean. He doesn’t look like Sunny anymore, and maybe you can get out of this without them figuring out that your boyfriend (no, stop questioning whether or not the term fits) is a wanted man. Maybe they’ll release him in the morning anyway because it’s really a minor offense, and he’s not in the system, or any system, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth. 

Maybe it’s better not to try to bribe at all.

But your taller companion will approach the officer. And he’ll discuss options. ‘You have someone we know’ and inquiries into his status, his detainment.

A slide of dollars across the counter and a question of whether or not this can be settled before things get more complicated.

And you’ll want to panic, because he looks angry. Livid. ‘Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law,’ or maybe his phrasing is different, but your ears will be white noise and you won’t be able to fully make out the words.

And you need to keep your wits about you before you start to panic.

‘I’m just trying to help a friend’ or maybe his phrasing is different. Their lips will move and you won’t make out a word.

And then the officer is looking at you.

Maybe you can panic a little. But it’s better if you don’t.

He looks at you and he’ll lick his lips as his gaze travels up and down your body. ‘You a boy or a girl, kid?’

And you won’t be able to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, looking from the officer, to your companions. The smaller looks pale, even with the burns reddening his skin. Pale and knowing. And his knowledge helps you know exactly what is expected of you.

So you lie.

‘A girl.’ the words are sticky and hot and uncomfortable and you long to throw them across the room. Let the officer fetch them, and maybe you can all run for it, grab your boyfriend, and get out. You just want to get out. It’s hot and smells too sweet in here. You usually like sweets.

Your boyfriend was getting you sweets. And now he’s tangled in this web. And you don’t know how to fend all the spiders off.

But don’t panic.

‘I think I can let things slide, if you let me get to know your little girl here.’

Each word is too distinct to ignore.

Don’t panic.

‘Absolutely not.’ Your larger companion shakes his head, and his face, unlike the small one, is red with rage. His hands tremble at his sides.

‘Then I guess you weren’t serious about helping a friend.’

‘I’ll do it.’

They’re the last words you’ll be able to say. The officer pockets the money, and rises from his desk, and cuffs your companions to one of the bolted down chairs. Don’t panic for that, or when he grabs your arm. It’ll hurt, but not in a way that’s physical, and he’ll start to walk you to a back room. It’s barely bigger than a supply closet, but it’s empty, and he’ll pull a cord to turn on a light as you step inside.

‘Such a pretty baby,’ He’ll coo as he brushes his thumb over your lips.

Something breaks in your brain. Splintering. But don’t panic.

‘Why don’t you slip out of those clothes and get comfortable?’

He makes you undress slowly, piece by piece, and stops you when you try to speed it along. He’ll stare at every inch of you, devour your breasts and your cunt and your thighs before he’s even touched you.

‘Such an impeccable babydoll.’

The splinters stick sharper in your skull, against the backs of your eyes, and you can see shadowy figures around you.

But don’t panic.

He’ll place his hand on top of your head and force you to your knees. Except there’s no force needed, because you’re willing. This is okay, because you’re willing. You’re willing, so you won’t panic. You won’t panic. You won’t panic.

He tastes stale and musty, and you’ll breathe through your nose frantically until he plugs it. He fucks your throat like a sleeve, and your eyes water, and he calls you baby and doll and you can see the figures swim closer, closer. When they touch, the wounds will tear open, and you’ll know everything. And all you want to know is nothing. You want to know nothing at all.

He’ll finish, pulling out of your lips to coat your breasts, your face, and he’ll grab a fistful of your hair as he pulls you upright. He’ll kiss you like you’re lovers, and he’ll shove his tongue into your violated mouth. It’s almost worse than tasting the rest of him.

Tell yourself it’s okay.

Tell yourself you wanted it.

Tell yourself there’s no shame.

Tell yourself it’s for the best.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

And when the door creaks open, and you see three figures standing in the doorway, you definitely shouldn’t panic. The shadows descend upon you, and you see everything and nothing all at once. 

It’s okay to panic.

But there’s nothing left of you to give anymore. So you let the darkness, the shadows, the infinite and the nothingness, you let it all consume you.


	28. Chapter 28

Rich almost made a joke about handcuffs, but the idea of making any sort of jokes right now made his mouth dry, full of sand and bitterness. His fingers flexed, trying to pull away, to yank hard enough to wrench his hand free, or to break through the arm of the chair they’d been handcuffed to, the chain linked between them.

Moses sat completely still, staring at the door where Jeremy had been carried. Occasionally, they could hear the dull mumbling of the voice of the officer, nothing loud enough to be distinct, but then the silence would inevitably follow. 

Rich wanted to throw up.

Thinking about Jeremy being hurt in much the same way Rich had experienced being hurt left a dull pit of despair. He wanted to hope that he was mistaken, but the way the officer looked at him, the way he grabbed him, the fact that he’d taken him in private, none of it bode well.

“I should have offered myself,” Moses said lowly. “I should have fought him. I should have-”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“All of this is my fault.”

“No it’s-”

“Yes it is, Richard. By taking me as a squip, this entire chain of events transpired. You wouldn’t have set that fire if it weren’t for me. You wouldn’t have run away if it weren’t for me. We wouldn’t be on this journey at all if it weren’t for me. Squip wouldn’t be arrested. You wouldn’t have been hurt. Jeremy wouldn’t be in the middle of...of god knows what.”

His voice cracked though. Because he knew. God knew. Rich knew. Everyone knew exactly what Jeremy was going through.

Moses used the hand that wasn’t cuffed to cover his face, as he began to quietly weep.

“Hey. Babe. Babe! Please don’t--oh, fuck, babe, it’s going to be okay.”

Rich didn’t really see how it would be okay. Everything seemed bleak and broken from this position. But he couldn’t leave it alone, he couldn’t leave Moses so heartbroken.

“We’ll get through all of this, okay?” He reached out with the hand that wasn’t cuffed, and placed it against Mo’s kneecap. “Alright? Jeremy is going to come out of there, and the pig is going to get Squip for us, and we’ll...we’ll get a new car, and we’ll drive off to Mexico or Texas or or or Seattle or wherever the fuck we end up. Because we’re going to be together. And we’re going to be fine. Okay? We’re going to be just fine. I promise.”

Moses sniffled, dropping his hand from his face. HIs dark eyes were rimmed red with his tears, but he managed a very faint smile.

“Seattle?” He questioned.

“Yeah, that’s where...that’s where I was going in the first place. I thought it might be cool. The grunge scene. Coffee. You know. Some culture.”

“I always took you more for a Cali kind of guy.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta keep you on your toes, you know? Because that’s what you need to do. Stand on your toes. Like you aren’t already tall enough.”

He almost kissed him. Maybe he would have, if it weren’t for the circumstances. Maybe he would have kissed him now, this exact moment, in the alternate universe where they were still driving, where Jeremy was laughing as Squip softly sang along to some female-driven pop ballad. They could kiss, and Rich wouldn’t even tense up, and everything would be okay.

He didn’t have long to think about that, as the doors to the jail opened.

The three gentlemen were tall, lanky, and distinctly Japanese. They wore well pressed black suits, and the one in the middle--the tallest of the trio, with the palest hair color--carried a thick black briefcase.

The letters HVN were embossed onto the front. Somehow, the sight of this made Moses gasp. Rich didn’t have time to think about it though, as the three approached the same room that Jeremy had been dragged to.

“That’s the company that made us,” Moses said to Rich, a low conspiratorial tone. 

“What, HVN?”

“Shh.” Moses gestured for him to lower his voice, before he nodded. “My, ah, my internal programming used to say those letters. HVN.”

“Kinda sounds like heaven--I mean the initials, not your experience with...yeah.”

“Pretentious bullshit.”

“Fits, though, given your name. Kinda biblical.”

“But I’m not pretentious.”

Moses’ protests would prove the end of the conversation for the moment, as the gentleman on the left knocked upon the door. 

“What?” The voice was muffled from inside.

“We need to speak to whoever is in charge here,” The one on the right said. His voice had a faint accent but, although they all three looked Japanese, the accent was indecipherable, something perhaps European, but Rich couldn’t place it.

The door creaked open, and for just a moment, Rich caught sight of Jeremy, shivering, arms wrapped around himself in a futile attempt at modesty. He tugged harder at the cuffs, even knowing there was no way to break free. Someone needed to get to him, though. Jeremy was cold and scared and hurt, he’d been hurt, Rich knew exactly how it felt to be hurt like that. Why was no one helping him?

Were these three here to hurt him too?

The three didn’t seem to pay Jeremy any mind, though, as they spoke in soft voices with the officer. The one in the middle presented the briefcase, the one on the left working the combination, before the contents were shown to the officer.

The cop’s eyes boggled, before he looked up into the central figure’s eyes. He nodded, reaching out for the case. The right one reached over, shutting it, and all three shook their heads, before beckoning towards the locked door which, Rich suspected, led back towards the cells.

The officer shuffled off, as two of the three men faced Rich and Moses, while the third entered the room that Jeremy was in.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM,” Moses’ voice was louder than Rich had ever heard it. His body thrashed forward, and the chair, though bolted, gave a dangerous screech at the pressure being put upon its arm. 

“Please stop your struggling,” The one who had been in the center said softly, holding up a hand in a quiet sort of command. It did little to help, Moses continuing to struggle and squirm.

The other figure, whose hair was completely black, stepped forward, fitting a key first into Rich’s cuff, releasing him. Rich rubbed his wrist, curiously looking up at them. With his arm free, Moses was able to wrench his arm away from the chair, rising to his full height.

Before he could do anything, the door opened again, and Jeremy came padding out, clothes inside out, with the gentleman’s suit jacket draped over him. He shook horribly, eyes averted from Rich’s, though he did shuffle up near him.

Rich wrapped his arm around him, and Jeremy snuggled up against him. Though he was taller than Rich, his body felt so much smaller now.

Moses fell still at the sight of Jeremy, and remained placid as his own cuff was keyed off.

“Your friend will be released shortly,” The three figures were once more in their lined formation, the central one speaking clearly and briskly. “However, we have some business to discuss in the meantime.”

The leftmost figure reached into his back pocket, pulling out an envelope. He passed it to Moses, who warily opened it.

Within the envelope were four plane tickets. 

“Tokyo,” Moses read numbly. “Why-”

“Because you’re from Japan. Holy FUCK!” Rich shrieked, then quickly lowered his voice again. “I mean holy fuck.” HIs arm tightened a little around Jeremy, pulling him nearer protectively.

“That’s right. I'm sure you all have many questions, as to what our role is, what your role is, how these bodies came to be-”

And it was only now hitting Rich that he’d never really asked any of those things. He’d always just assumed it was something that was a long time coming. Squip and Moses had bodies because they deserved to have bodies.

But of course someone must have crafted them. Computers didn’t magically just become human.

The door opened again, and out came the officer and Squip. Squip looked confused, blinking rapidly as he stumbled towards the trio. The central figure took a few steps towards the officer, leaving the suitcase on his desk. “I'm sure you can agree that it’s best to keep this as discreet as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Get the fuck out of this building before I change my mind.”

One of the men appeared irritated by this brash tone, but none of them--not the four of them, and not the trio of Japanese men--protested as they stepped outside.

Two sets of sleek black vehicles were parked against the curb, as Squip numbly moved to the post to untie Dog (who naturally wagged his tail excitedly at the sight of his master, licking his face as Squip pulled him into his arms). Moses continued clutching the envelope, as the central figure opened the passenger door of one of the cars. A larger manilla envelope sat upon the seat.

“You’ll find passports, IDs, and birth certificates, as well as a small sum of money, within there. I promise, all valid. We’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your travels are safe and comfortable.”

“Why?” Squip snapped. “Who are you?”

“They bailed you out,” Rich said.

Or bribed. He supposed it was more bribed. How were they supposed to process all of this?

“We’ve been observing you four. Unprecedented, the behavior between squips and humans. It’s almost as though you’ve truly assimilated into our culture. It’s best, though, if we explain further once you join us in our headquarters.”

The keys were handed to Squip, as he balanced Dog in one arm.

“We’re sure you’ll make the right choice.”

And with that, the three of them got into the first of the two cars, and drove, presumably to the airport.

“What the fuck was that?” Rich asked. And then whimpered, realizing he’d been hobbling upon his cast without his crutches this whole time in the state of his shock. 

Moses scooped him up, cradling him in his arms, even as his eyes remained fixed on the retreating vehicle, until it turned a corner, out of sight. “Something dangerous.”

“They’ve been watching us.” Squip said slowly. “Scientists, maybe?”

“Businessmen,” Jeremy said. He still had the jacket of one of them around him. “He said they were private investors. I d-don’t...I don’t know what that…” He started to tremble, shuffling closer to Squip.

Squip, who had no idea what had transpired between Jeremy and the officer yet, still instinctively placed his arm around him. He looked at Moses uncertainly. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Moses stepped towards the car, grabbing the manilla envelope, until he was cradling that, the tickets, and Rich. He placed Rich into the passenger seat, though, taking a step towards the back. “But we’d better decide quickly while we drive.”

“And where, exactly, are we driving?”

Rich watched as Jeremy and Moses got into the backseat, and felt the car shake from the weight of them. It moved less fiercely when Squip got into the driver’s seat, though not before shuffling Dog into the back as well.

“The airport,” Moses said softly.

It occurred to Rich that he’d thought their journey was ending. Perhaps, though, it was just beginning.

He didn’t know if he was excited, or absolutely ill from the prospect.


	29. Chapter 29

There was nothing in the world left to laugh about.

Except for the sight of Squip’s birth certificate.

“Squip Johnson.” Jeremy managed to say it without stuttering. Squip Johnson. The passport said Squip Johnson too. And the driver’s license.

Clear as day.

“Squip Johnson!”

Squip glanced in the rearview mirror at him. “What are you saying?”

Jeremy knew there was nothing funny here. Especially knowing that soon Squip would know exactly what happened to him. He wasn’t looking forward to sharing that part. But as he stared at the passport, at the little photograph of Squip scowling (how they’d managed to snag that photo, he wasn’t sure), he couldn’t help but chortle. Squip. Johnson.

The absurdity of such a name. He howled with laughter, kicking his legs. The laughter would end up fading into tears eventually, of course. It wasn’t sustainable joy. But for just a moment, it was enough.

Moses started giggling next to him. “That is a pretty ridiculous name,” He conceded.

“It isn’t that bad. What name did they give you?”

“Goranski.”

“That’s much worse than Johnson!”

“Squip Johnson,” Moses muttered, and he and Jeremy started laughing again.

Rich was the next to start laughing, his giggling joining Moses’ and Jeremy’s in a hearty mix of joy in the midst of confused tragedy. Jeremy had been hurt horribly. Rich had been hurt horribly. Squip and Moses were stuck with the hard work of supporting them as they picked up all the pieces.

But for right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was their fake paperwork, their new identities.

The absurdity of one scowly boy’s name.

“Squip Johnson!” Rich shrieked.

“Squip Johnson,” Jeremy echoed, and the laughter grew more pronounced.

“It isn’t that funny!”

Except Squip’s voice cracked, as he started to laugh too.

****

“There’s no way we’re getting on that flight. Agreed?”

Everyone nodded. And Squip felt like he had a purpose, as he took the tickets from Moses. They weren’t boarding the flight. They weren’t going on some nameless adventure for some strange men, just because they paid off Squip’s bail. Maybe in some ways it’d be safer to go to another country--after all, Squip doubted anyone was searching for “Sunny” overseas, and certainly not for Squip in conjunction with the kidnapping.

But it was also just as likely that the charges would blow over on their own. And even if they didn’t, they could figure something out.

They always figured something out in the end.

Jeremy grasped at his wrist as he started to walk towards the check in counter.

“H-hey, Squip?”

“Yes?”

“I, um, I’m really glad you’re out of jail.”

“Me too.”

“And, um, I really, like, I r-really…”

Jeremy’s stutter was adorably inefficient. Squip brushed his fingers over his face, and kissed his forehead.

“I like you too. But I have to go refund these tickets now.”

He strode up to the counter, feeling the eyes of the ones he cared most for fixed on him. And as he convinced the woman behind the counter to offer a full refund for the one way first class tickets, he knew they were making the right choice.

****

It seemed a shame, almost, to leave the car behind. It was a nice car, certainly much nicer than the one they’d scrapped only hours before.

“They already said they were watching us. They’re probably tracking the car too.”

Moses knew Squip was right. Still, such a waste. And he’d never even gotten the chance to drive. Missed opportunities.

As they clutched their Greyhound tickets and the leash to Dog, Moses supposed there’d be plenty of time to experience all that humanity had to offer though.

Their feet creaked against the floors as they entered the westbound bus. Sleepy-eyed passengers briefly looked upon them. Moses decided just this once he’d allow himself to take up space, as he took the window seat, smiling as Rich slid up next to him.

“This seat taken, sexy?”

“My boyfriend might be mad, but I guess I’ll let you stay.”

Their fingers brushed together and Moses thought this might be the best he’d ever felt in his life. 

And that his life was just starting.

He felt the sun stream in through the window, as he looked outside and watched the station begin to fade away. A new trek in their lives, with Rich beside him. He looked to the seat next to them, and was unsurprised to see Squip and Jeremy already kissing, the dog settled at their feet. 

He strummed his thumb over the back of Rich’s hand. He was real. He was here. He was alive. And that was all that mattered.

“Hey, Mo?”

“Yes, Sunshine?”

Rich’s fingers looped within Mo’s. And his other hand reached out, grabbing his collar. He tugged Moses towards him.

Their lips met, soft and sweet, and for a moment, Moses was sure he was dreaming. Nothing could feel so good. Nothing could feel so human.

When he didn’t wake up, he finally let himself sink completely into Rich.

****

Moses tasted like strawberries and sunshine. The irony, given that the nickname belonged to himself and not his boyfriend.

It had been so long since Rich had kissed, really and truly kissed. And it was the first time, he realized, that he and Moses had kissed since Moses had ended up in this new body.

It reminded him of before, when they’d been together. But it was also new. New and a little frightening, but mostly exhilarating. 

“Wow,” Moses breathed as Rich pulled back after a moment.

He didn’t know if he could manage much more than that just yet. He didn’t know how long it would take before he could give himself over.

What he did know was that he loved him. He loved Moses more fiercely than he’d ever realized he had the capability to love. He loved Moses. And he loved Jeremy, who he could hear next to them, macking on Squip. And he even loved Squip, the beast who’d driven them all around the world, or at least all around the country, and asked for nothing but some girly pop and black coffee in return.

He didn’t know much. He didn’t know if they’d settle in Washington or California or Montana. He didn’t know if they’d get another car and go north, or south, or maybe even back east. He didn’t know where home was. 

He just knew he felt it with them. 

And he knew that they were going to be okay.


	30. Chapter 30

EPILOGUE

When it came to happily ever afters, Rich wasn’t sure it got much better than this.

The studio apartment was small. Impossibly small. And made even smaller with the news of company arriving in just a few hours. Or perhaps the smallness was because of the hyperactive Dog constantly running underfoot. Rich couldn’t resist taking a moment to scratch behind his ears.

“F-flight tracker says they’re s-still delayed.” Jeremy said in annoyance. Squip rolled his eyes, grabbing Jeremy around the waist and tugging him into his lap.

“Would you stop checking that thing?” He kissed his neck, and Jeremy laughed, squirming a little as he hopped out of his arms again.

“I d-don’t want to hear it, Mr. Johnson.”

“Does that make you Mrs. Johnson?”

“Definitely n-not.” Jeremy let Squip pull him back into his arms again, settling into the kiss.

It turned out Seattle wasn’t nearly as rainy as Rich had expected, as the sunlight trickled in through the open windows. He hopped into the kitchen, or hopped as well as he could with his cane, dropping the cane once he was there to wrap his arms around Moses from behind.

“Do you think I made enough?”

Every inch of counter space was covered in cupcakes. Rich reached over, snatching one, and licking the icing off the top. Absolutely decadent. He wanted to smash it into Moses’ face, just to kiss the sweetness off of him.

He’d restrain himself for now. But only because they were going to have company soon.

It would be the first time Jeremy had seen his father in nearly two years. And Christine. And Michael.

And Jake.

Oh, that first phone call with Jake had been terrifying, Rich had to admit. He’d nearly thrown up, and had hung up on the first ring seven times.

But it was like they always said: eighth time’s the charm.

They’d talked for hours. Hours upon hours, recounting adventures, sharing triumphs and tragedies. Jake was off to college now, but for fall break, he was taking the time to fly out to Washington, with Mr. Heere, Christine, and Michael as well, to come see how the four of them were living.

And Rich had to admit, he was a little anxious that their little paradise might not live up to all of their expectations.

But in the end, it didn’t matter what they thought. They might be loved ones, and family in their own right, but in the end, they’d slivered their own little bit of normal out of the world.

In the end, they really did find a world worth living for.

This was enough. Everything else, like with the cupcakes, was just icing.

But boy, did Rich like to indulge in his sweets.

****

The car across the street was dark but inconspicuous, and as the four slipped out of the house to head to the airport, they didn’t even notice it among their neighbors’ vehicles. Anyone could have driven a black car, after all. It didn’t mean anything.

“It would have been so much easier if they’d just taken the initial flight,” The man in the passenger seat said.

“We could have had all of this over and done with,” the man in the backseat agreed.

The one in the driver’s seat, however, holding the binoculars they’d been using to spy on the foursome, chuckled softly. He placed the binoculars back down, running his fingers through his sandy hair, as he regarded his brothers.

“Yes,” He said agreeably, “But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”

They started the car and drove away before the four would return home with their company. And though they wouldn’t bring doom, they certainly had plans of bringing about their own set of new beginnings, new adventures. 

The rules were about to be rewritten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go ahead and post the last few chapters today in one go. And so concludes the first part of this tale. The sequel is currently in the works and will be posted once it is finished (I know the ending here is kind of a lot all at once, but that's what sequels are made for, right?).  
> I really cannot express enough how much I appreciate everyone who took the time to read or comment or kudos this fic. I really didn't think anyone would be interested, so the fact that I had people following along makes me more happy than I can express. Thank you. Thank you so much.  
> As with all my work, any elements, characters, situations, etc are free use for any creative works or usage (fanart, fanfiction, etc etc).  
> Feel free to follow me at flightysquip on tumblr if you'd like.   
> And with that, I guess I'll let you all go. Thank you again to everyone!


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